ET
by babyvfan
Summary: Troy has always been the good boy. Always follow the rules, listens to his parnets, and stays clear from trouble. When Gabriella Montez enters the picture, trouble is written all over her. She's strange, different, a complete loner. And despite warnings of her reputation, despite the rumors circling around about her past, despite the fact she terrifies him, he wants her.
1. Chapter 1

_E.T_

He remembers the first time he ever met her…

It was an early, warm autumn morning at East High-too early for Troy's liking. Usually he was used to being woken up and getting to school by at least seven thirty, but on Mondays, which were his least favorite days of the week, like today, Wednesdays, and Fridays, his dad woke him up at four-thirty in the morning for his training. For his training, he had to complete fifty pushups with two fifty-pound weights on his back, fifty sit-ups with the same fifty-pound weights on his stomach, jumping rope a hundred and fifty times, running around the entire block five times at a good pace, and finishing off with thirty free throws in a row.

All while his dad watched him with the Bolton men's piercing, ocean blue eyes that were cold slits, loudly barking at his son to go faster and faster, making him wish he could stuff the basketball into his mouth so he can have peace and quiet.

_Come on, Troy, let's go. Faster, faster. Get'ca your head in the game_. Even classrooms away from his dad, he could still him barking those orders. He weakly winced as he felt sharp pain biting onto his poor shoulder he rubbed tenderly. Every muscle in his body was completely stiff and painful in the end, and he could feel from the shoulder pain the Hot and Cold cream he put on wasn't doing much to tame the pain.

He once told his dad how much the routine really put a lot of straining on his body. Big mistake there. His dad always tell him at the end, as he's panting out of breath, dripping in sweat, and drinking every sip in his water bottle, that those routines would help him be strong and help lead the Wildcats to the Championships'.

Oddly enough, that seemed to be one of the very few things his dad was right about. Although the workouts caused him much pain in his body and he felt so drained, he had to admit they did help him not only do great in basketball, but also with the ladies who seemed intrigued with his toned-muscular body, which was one of the many things girls liked about him.

Trying to focus on his history notes for the quiz they were going to get in the next class, Troy couldn't help but overhear some of the conversation going on around him between his group of close friends. His best friend since preschool and school's class clown, Chad Danforth, was talking with their good friends, Zeke Baylor, Ryan Evans, and Jason Cross, about their plans to see _Rise of the Planet_ _of the Apes_. Seated onto their boyfriends' laps, Taylor McKessie, the school's brainy beauty, Sharpay Evans, Ryan's twin sister and Ice Queen, and Kelsi Nelson, the talented composer, were talking about going shopping this weekend, celebrities they liked and adored and those thought shouldn't even be famous in the first place, articles they read in their magazines, and other girl things he didn't understand nor cared to.

"So about it, Captain?" Chad asked, bringing Troy back to reality.

"How about what?" he asked, confused.

"Going with us to the movies this Saturday," Jason grinned. "We're going to see _The Rise of the Planet of the Apes _and I heard it's awesome."

Troy stared at his friends, who were waiting for his answer, feeling a strong sense of deja vu from the conversation. It seemed almost like a dance to him, they lead him on with the question and he, following their lead, gives them the same answer. "I don't think so, guys."

Almost instantly, right on cue, they groaned and rolled their eyes. No matter how many times they ask him to hang out with them, he always delivers the same answer, even though they're always hoping he'd change his mind at least once.

"And what the excuse this time?" Troy's practically his brother, but even Chad couldn't help being more than a bit annoyed his best friend wouldn't hang out with them. The only time they ever see him, besides school or practice, was when he'd come over to one of their houses or they come over to his, with both visits not lasting that long because Troy always seemed to be on his strict schedule.

"First off, they're not excuses. They're _genuine_ reasons," The gang groaned louder, much to his annoyance, but that didn't stop him from continuing. "Second, I just can't."

Sharpay took time off from working on her manicure and tapped her sparkly pink nail-filer against her chin as she eyed Troy, a smirk playing on her lips as she flipped back her blond hair. "Can't, Bolton, or simply too scared?"

At that, loud hollers and whistles erupted from the gang, while the drama queen and basketball captain had a stare-off, the captain frowning in annoyance while the queen was still smirking, till Troy finally pulled away.

Normally at anything else, Troy would defend himself, but in this case it was different because he could see his friends had a point.

The truth was Troy was one who always liked following his schedule with nothing new or unexpected crashing its' perfection. He wakes up at six A.M, get dressed and spends thirty minutes getting ready, goes to school, studies hard and practices hard, comes home, do homework, and go to bed and do the same thing all over again. Lather, rinse, repeat, which was just the way he liked things to be for him.

And not only that, but he does this schedule for not himself but also for his parents- his dad in particular. His dad, who was also his hard-core trainer and a much harder coach, isn't someone who can easily be pleased and Troy following the rules without hesitance was the only thing, besides basketball, that pleased him, even if it was just a little bit. As a result, Troy's at the top of his class, got the best grades and was a joy to teachers, didn't go to parties or hung out with his friends that often, turned down dates he's been asked to, and was, well, awkward.

The girls, Sharpay especially, always told him if he wasn't "such a hottie" and basketball captain, he'd be at the bottom of the school's food chain, and sometimes he couldn't help but agree with them. He supposed he was good-looking enough thanks to the body he got from basketball and his dad's workout routine, had eyes Taylor always said reminded her of the ocean, and took entirely after his dad who was voted "Most beautiful" and "Mr. Popular" and was king to almost every dance he went to. Unlike his legendary dad and his friends, he was only decently popular, but that was only because he was a great, hard-working captain who helped lead the Wildcats onto back-to-back Championships. If it wasn't for that, being the son to the famous Jack Bolton, and his friendship connections, he'd be a loner who had nothing else to do but focus on getting a good grade on the next test and pushing himself to work harder, which he already was.

"Seriously, Troy," Zeke said, and he brought himself back into the conversation. "I know how much of a hard-ass your dad can be, but one afternoon off the schedule wouldn't kill anyone."

"Except maybe our boredom." Ryan muttered quietly and yet they all, except for Troy, burst into laughter.

Troy had enough of this conversation and returned his attention back to his notes on the French Revolution, determined not to get anything lower than an A- on today's quiz. He study two days before, skimmed through it again before he finally went to bed, and studied on the drive to school, committing every date and person and everything else to memory till he was sure he could recite it in his sleep. But studying it one more time before History class couldn't hurt right?

"Come on, man," Jason begged. "I'd rather hang out with you outside school and the gym."

"One break wouldn't hurt anybody, Troy." Taylor insisted.

_Except me_, he thought, frowning. _If it doesn't get me killed first_. He wished his friends could relate with him and sympathize, but sadly none of them, not even Chad, understand what's going on with him. None of them had hard-ass fathers who barely gave them the time of day, not sure what to talk to them about except basketball, which was the only thing they had in common, and would make their lives absolute hell if they made a mistake on anything. Like getting a B+ as a grade for one of his classes his dad looked down upon like it was a big, fat F. Forgetting to straightened up his room because he was in hurry to get to school and had to walk the whole three miles, which got him a hard punch to the gut and a week's grounding. Being late to practice just once because his tutoring session was running late, which earned him three extra hours of practice and triple the routine work-outs.

Seeing the frown on his face, Kelsi decided Troy handled enough harassment for one day, took pity on him, and said to the others who were still chuckling a bit, "I think Troy suffers enough embarrassment from us for one day."

_Thank you, Kelsi_, he praised as he shared a smile with her, being reminded once again why out of all three girls he preferred her the most. She teased him to a no-means's end like the others, but at least she understood a bit when enough was enough and when to give the teasing and jokes a rest.

His friends then disburses when the morning bell rang, alerting students and teachers alike, it was time to start another school day, and they all agreed to meet at their usual table at lunch before taking their seats. Once everyone in the class was seated and at least quiet enough, Ms. Darbus rose from her seat, stepped off from her "stage" with her handy clipboard in one hand and coffee in the other, ready to give today's announcements.

"Good morning, students," she greeted with her half-smile. "I trust all of you are looking forward to another educational-filled week in East High."

Already knowing the respond she'd get for that comment, she quickly moved on. "As I'm sure you're all aware, report cards come out next week. I suggest to those of you who are doing poorly in your classes," She glared at Chad hard, having a good guess on what his grades were. She already knew what his grade in English was going to be. "I _highly _recommend you use this advantage to improve your grades."

"Come on, Ms. D," Chad grinned, never one to miss out on a huge opportunity to show off his smart mouth. "I believe there's no such thing as a bad grade."

"Our views on good and bad grades are _worlds_ apart, Mr. Danforth." she remarked, causing loud laughter and cat-calls to erupt in the small room.

"Dude," Troy reached across to nudge Chad in the shoulder. "You seem to forget she's _your _English teacher who can easily fail you." _That is, if you already hadn't_, he silently added.

"Relax," Chad winked. "She won't be able to fail me once she gets a taste of the winning Danforth charm."

_Riiight_, he thought, rolling his eyes.

"Moving on," Ms. Darbus said. "Tutoring sessions begin three-thirty sharp, so once again I highly suggest-"

Just then, Principal Matsui came into the classroom, causing quite a stirring buzz in the class. Rarely does the Principal ever make an appearance outside his office and the auditorium, and he does it's usually for two reasons: 1). He had horrible news to personally deliver for one of the students. 2). someone got themselves into deep trouble; he decided to publicly humiliate them in front of everyone.

He walked over to Ms. Darbus and handed her a file folder that looked more like a five hundred-paged novel, and the two looked to be in a intense conversation as Ms. Darbus skimmed through the pages in the folder, shaking her head, while the Principal was wildly gesturing his hands, till she finally closed the folder and looked away from him, with a frown on her face, while he looked satisfied.

"Attention class!" He loudly clapped his hands a few times till the chatter finally died down and he had their attention. "I have very good, interesting news. We have a new student who will be joining the East High family. And I trust all of you to make her feel welcome."

A new girl! That was quite a rarity, even more than the Principal making an appearance because usually new girls, and also guys, are in the freshmen class.

Everyone couldn't help wondering and making guesses on what the new girl's like? Hot or ugly? Blonde, red-head, or brunette? The preppy type or goth-Emo? Will she interested in cheerleading, be a drama-obsessed, a book-worm, or just be a loner? The possibilities were nearly endless.

Uninterested, Troy returned to his notes, trying to block out the sound of chatter around him.

"A Miss Gabriella Montez who comes to us from New York City," Ms. Darbus read off, impressed, causing even more of an uproar for the class. "Miss Montez."

They waited for her to walk through the door, but thirty seconds went by and nothing.

"Miss Montez!" Still nothing. "Don't be shy. No one is going to hurt you, dear."

"Miss Montez!" Ms. Darbus barked at the doorway, her patience clearly, and quickly, running out. "The theater waits for no one."

So the new girl wasn't one who answered when being called the first time-or the second and third. That added even more speculation and lesser possibilities to what she was like. Till finally the sound of shoes walked entered into the room, cutting through the loud noise like a sharp knife and putting it into dead silence.

Troy slowly looked up from his notes to see what the fuss was about and his eyes widened in shock, unable to do anything but stare as_ she_ walked in.

She was, in one word, _beautiful_. Lustrous, long raven hair cascading down her back and shoulders that looked so soft to touch, a beautiful face that looked like it was crafted precisely and beautifully by angels even if her eyes were covered by her dark shades, blemish-free and flawless olive-tanned skin, and beautiful dark red lips that were full and sweet-looking.

The only other thing beautiful as her looks were her body: petite, possibly 5'3 or 5'4, with her shoes adding some height, very voluptuous and full, firm yet lean legs, and lean and graceful-like like a body that belonged to a dancer. She was showing off her figure in a very wow-ish ensemble that barely contained her curves: a simple, white mid-drift tank top and showed off her entire, toned stomach that had a dark orange-tannish flower tattoo around it and her sparkling diamond-stub navel piercing,_ short_-short bleach denim shorts and black cowboy boots that made her legs look endless.

Aside from her from navel piercing, she had others: a silver stub nose ring, two silver eyebrow stars, and some thing black on her shoulder he quickly dismissed was a lock of her hair.

For a full two-minute, she just stood there. Not moving and completely silent, with her hands stuffed into her pockets and chewing her gum quietly. She definitely wasn't the shy type since she wasn't fidgeting or looking nervous, but then again it was hard on what really to make of this girl.

"Don't be shy, Gabriella," Principal Matsui took a step forward with his left hand slightly raised, as if he was going to place his hand on her shoulder. Yet, at the last minute, as she turned back and gave him a look, he quickly withdrawal the hand away from her shoulder and gestured toward the class. "Tell us something about yourself."

Gabriella turned back to them, still silent. She chewed her gum for about ten more seconds, parted her lips, and blew a huge pink bubble that was almost the size of her head till it popped. Unfazed, she sucked it back into her mouth and started chewing again.

"Miss Montez," Ms. Darbus scowled. "Since you are a new student, I'm willing to let this slip once. But here in East High, we don't chew gum. Now spit out."

Still chewing, Gabriella turned back to Ms. Darbus, and, seeing a disgusted scowl on the woman's face, shrugged her shoulders. With a swift turn of her heel, she walked over to the teacher, took Ms. Darbus's hand, and, to everyone's astonishment and disgust, spit out the huge wad of gum into the woman's palm before balling her hand into a tight fist.

_Holy_…the class was so quiet; you could hear a penny fall onto the ground. Ms. Darbus was far from being everyone's favorite teacher at the school, annoyed them more than half of the time, and there were tons of people who loved getting under her skin. However, none of them, not even Chad who knew countless ways to amuse her, ever pulled off something completely…_bold_ and disgusting.

"What the-Why would-What is-Dear Lord!" Mr. Darbus cringed, for once lost at words.

A smirk, small but completely devilish, appeared on Gabriella's red lips as she patted Ms. Darbus hand, saying "Be a doll will you, Dumbass, and throw that away for me?"

Not even waiting for a reply, and missing the woman's shocked expression, Gabriella walked over to the empty desk in the back of the class, the third seat; already figuring out it was going to be her new home. The whole class, him especially, couldn't tear their eyes away from her, the sound of her heels clanking breaking the heavy silence.

Finally she was seated, legs crossed as were her arms, leaning back against her seat and staring straight ahead. Everyone slowly turned their attention back to Ms. Darbus, who was trying to pull herself together after her little ordeal, and the rest of the announcements were called out.

All throughout homeroom, more than a few people couldn't help taking more than a few curious glances at the new student. Especially Troy, who took way more than a few glances and looked much longer than expected.

He couldn't stop staring at her; he couldn't explain why he was even looking at her in the first place. He wasn't blind; she was pretty, yes, beautiful even. But East High had plenty of girls like that, although most didn't exactly have her…style (?). Besides staring was wrong, a fact his prim and proper grandmother drilled into his head since he was little, and him continuing to look at her wasn't helping at all.

With those dark shades still on, it was hard to tell what was going through her mind. He wondered if she was aware nearly everyone kept staring at her or basically ignored them.

"Mr. Bolton!" With a jolt, fear running through him hot and cold at the possibly of trouble, he quickly turned his attention back to the front, where it belonged. But it was too late. Everyone was now staring at him, smirks on their faces, and Ms. Darbus was steaming. "Perhaps you'll let us in on what seems to capture your attention."

_No, not really_, he gulped. It was one thing to be called out in front of the class, it was a completely other thing if he had to answer that question.

"We're waiting, Mr. Bolton." Ms. Darbus may not be the cruelest teacher, at least in his opinion, but still she was a teacher and like most wouldn't let a chance to humiliate a student slip away.

If people weren't paying attention now, they definitely were now. He felt like a mouse trapped in corner. He tried to block out their stares and the sounds of their laughter, but that wasn't easy to do, especially when the laughing was slowly getting louder.

_Remain calm, remain calm_, he tried unsuccessfully. His entire face felt hot, as if he was burning up, sweat gathered around his forehead, and he could tell his cheeks, if not his entire face, were blushing bright red.

"Uh…um…" he stuttered, unsure what to say. The smirks were getting bigger and the chuckling was getting louder. His blush was getting even redder to his amazement and embarrassment.

"Pathetic."

At the moment, Troy couldn't be anymore grateful for the word "Pathetic". As grateful as he was to the word, he even more grateful to the person who said it.

He turned back to give the person a grateful smile, but his smile froze in place when he saw who the speaker was.

It was Gabriella, who now held everyone's attention but unlike him didn't look uncomfortable at all.

"Excuse me, Miss Montez?" Ms. Darbus questioned.

"Please don't tell me you're deaf, too, Ms. Dumbass," she sighed before pushing her shades back and revealing her whole face, which was ten times more beautiful than before. Rolling her dark mocha eyes that looked almost as dark as her hair, she continued. "Like I was saying, it's pathetic. A pup," she nodded Troy's direction. "Can't even think about things, like getting out of this hell-hole, without getting in trouble with the devil. Which, in case you haven't figure out already, is you."

_Sweet Jesus_, Troy thought. If he even mumbled something like that to anyone, his father would be sure to hear him and kill him. How the heck this girl can say it out loud without fear or hesitance was beyond him.

"I beg your pardon-" Ms. Darbus started, but got cut off by her.

"Let me cut to the chase while we still have some time, Dumbass," Gabriella said. "I think it's really pathetic that a thousand-something year old grandma like yourself still gets a kick out of torturing her students. That's pathetic because it's sure as hell not going to make your pathetic life any less sad." If that wasn't enough to stun the class, the next thing she said really took it home. "Tell me. Has it been awhile since a certain someone's been turned on?"

For the longest, longest time, and possibly the first time in East High history, Ms. Darbus homeroom was completely silent. Not chatter, no cat-calls, no gasps, no noise. Even his best friend, Danforth, who always knew what to say during anything, was speechless.

He wasn't sure about the rest of thing, but Troy knew for himself his jaw dropped wide open and could have touched the ground.

"Well, Dumbass," She was not only unfazed by the hype she was creating, she was also enjoying it. He can tell by the faded glint in her dark eyes and the mocking tone in her voice, "We're waiting."

"Excuse-"Ms. Darbus began, only to get cut off again. Only this time by the school bell's loud ringing.

Without a word, Ms. Montez got herself up from her seat, put down her shades, and was already out the door before they could finally grasp what was going on.

"It's Darbus." She muttered, a bit too late, both stunned and insulted at once. "Darbus, young lady."

_Sweet Jesus_, Troy thought, looking back at the desk where she was five seconds ago and back to the door where she made her grand exit.

Who the hell is this girl?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Outsider**

"I heard she and her family are really immigrants who snuck their ways past the borderline and are trying to lay low."

"I heard she's really part of a drug ring and is here to find new customers."

"I heard she ran away from her older, abusive husband her parent forced her to marry so they could escape a huge, fifty billion dollar debt."

Rumors, rumors, rumors. They were part of life, especially high school were they seem to strike the hardest and one of the many reasons kids and teenagers alike hated it so much. It was a word that had four meanings, five actually: 1). According to the dictionary, rumor was gossip; 2). To the gossipers, it was harmless entertainment that made the dull life of school slightly less dull and more fun; 3). To the believers, they were the solid truth that helped them know who they should friend and who they should stay away from; 4). To the people affected by the gossip, it could easily break down their reputation as well as bringing it up

However, to those who don't only involve themselves in drama like that but also think its trash like Troy himself, who always heard a new rumor about him circling around the school three times a day, there was only one-word meaning to rumor: B.S

Troy hated rumors more than anything, but the thing he hated more than rumors was the odd fact that no matter how ridiculous a rumor can be, people still believed them and spread their own. Like how Mike Fallon, swim-team captain, had an extra toe growing out of his belly-button, when he started to withdraw from swimming. Or how Principal Matsui, who claims he's a strict vegetarian, really ate squirrels alive and raw, sometimes catching his food while school was in session. Another, which rotated around constantly and personally was the only one Troy liked because it was too funny to him, was Sharpay and Ryan are secretly lovers who have sex practically everywhere whenever they can, plan to marry in Las Vegas as soon as graduation comes, and have ten children at home their parents try to pass off as "_grandchildren_."

"_That's a vicious, disgusting, and most pathetic and sickening rumor I ever heard in my life!_" Sharpay would scream when those rumors would resurface again while Ryan tried to look serious when a few chuckles were let loose as his sister raged-on. "_And whoever believes that bull-shit is really pathetic and needs to seriously get a life_."

Today, instead of the gossip being about the close Evan twins, the cheer co-captain who looks like she might be pregnant, or about Troy, all the rumors were focused on Miss Gabriella Montez from the NYC, whose presence made quite an impression on East High.

Barely a day in school, rumors about Gabriella were spreading like wildfire after people got a look at the new wildcat and heard what happened in Ms. Darbus's class and more rumors began after those were heard and more were added. And so on, so on, and so on till there had to be at least ten thousand surrounding her.

Some, by very few, seem harmless and somewhat believable while most were just unbelievably insane. Such as, for example: she came here to escape a prostitution ring she's been apart of since she was thirteen, with an angry pimp looking for her. Been kicked out of every military school and boot camp in the country because her attitude was too wild for them to tame. Was abandoned by druggie parents when she was barely a day old and has been bounce from foster family to family, now living with her twentieth. A hell of a dancer who was a performing-arts student by day and stripper by night, needing the extra cash to support her baby boy. And, the latest one buzzing around, she was actually a world-famous model in need of a break away from the glamour and fame.

That one, Troy had to admit, made much more sense than the others. With that awe-worthy face of hers, inky dark hair, and body, it would shock him even more if she hasn't done any modeling or been asked to.

Things would been a whole lot easier if she could just to be one to nod, smile, and try to pass through the day like the rest of the them. Sadly, however, that was not the case. She, instead, was one who not only pushed the boundaries but loved doing it. In chemistry, she mixed two liquids together that had the whole place smelling like shit and foul eggs. In Spanish, when she was called to introduce herself, she sassed at the Senorita Garcia and cussed at them fluently with her native tongue. She gave the finger to anyone who looked at her, walked out of classes whenever she felt like it, without even asking the teacher for a pass, and already was sent to the principal's office more than twelve times-before fourth period was even over.

"She's definitely bad-ass." Zeke declared during lunchtime. The gang all met up at their usual table, which was the center of the big cafeteria, after purchasing today's lunch, Meatball Sub Marinara.

Swallowing a bit of the meatball goodness, Troy sneaked another peek at Gabriella.

She was sitting alone by a small table in the left corner, by the windows. Headphones plunged in her ears and bobbing her head to the music while writing in some book, occasionally stopping to take a bite of her sub sandwich or a sip of her drink, she seem oblivious to the rest of the world except her own. She looked comfortable enough, especially with her feet up and propped them onto the table as she leaned back against the wall.

Every once in awhile someone, either because they were dared or in need for a new seat and friend, would come by and take a seat beside her, setting their lunch tray on the table. Whenever that would happen, Gabriella would look up from her book, pull her glasses over her head, and glare at them till they finally got the message and moved out.

"I guess." Troy said, watching as a red-haired freshman practically ran the other way, as if his life depended on it, after Gabriella gave him the stink eye.

"You guess nothing, Bolton," Zeke grinned. "She puts the _bad_ in _bad-ass_!"

"I don't know," Taylor frowned, watching Gabriella who was still bobbing along to the music. "She seems stuck-up to me."

Sharpay snorted at Taylor's remark, shaking her head while munching on her salad, while Kelsi frowned, looking somewhat offended. "She's probably just scared, Taylor," she said. "It's not always easy being the new girl. I feel sorry for her."

Sharpay snorted again, louder this time, rolling her eyes twice. "Kelsi, you feel sorry for everyone. Do you remember when you first got here? No one felt sorry for you."

Kelsi didn't say a word, but Troy could see there was pain in her face and he knew why. Freshmen year, Kelsi transferred into East High straight from Nebraska, and East High wasn't exactly known for being welcoming to newcomers. Too quiet and shy for her own good, she was immediately branded as a nerd by Heather Homes, the coolest and meanest girl in school, tormented by half the school while the other half steered clear of her, and went through hell for two whole semesters. It wasn't until Sharpay and Taylor rescued her from Heather and her trio of bitches and adopted her into their exclusive gang did things slowly go right for her.

Ryan glared coldly at Sharpay for bringing up the unpleasant memory, wrapped one arm around Kelsi, and kissed her full on the lips till her frown melted away into a smile. "Don't mind my pain-in-the-butt sister, Kels," He glanced around just in time to see Sharpay flung her half-empty water bottle at his head and quickly dodged, with the bottle smacking hard against the back of a head of a lone nerd who was knocked into his food.

Saying a quick sorry to the poor guy and scowling at his sister, who was trying to look innocent as she ate the rest of her food, he said to his girlfriend "You have a big, caring heart and that's one of the things I love so much about you."

"I'm not dissing her, crap for brains," Sharpay argued, and then smiled kindly at Kelsi and reached over to pat her friend's hand. "Kels, I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I love you have a big heart. Because, honestly, that completes our trio."

"What trio?" Taylor asked, curious.

Sharpay snorted again, this time more playfully than rude like before. "Our trio, silly. Since the three of us are best friends, I figure we must as well be a trio. Each of us is a beauty with a quality. For example, you," She pointed her perfectly, bright pink manicured finger at Taylor. "Are the beauty with the brains," Moving her finger over to Kelsi, she continued "You're the beauty with the heart."

"And what exactly are you, babe?" Zeke asked, although he had a pretty good idea to what she would say, knowing his girlfriend all too well.

Sharpay pecked her boyfriend on the cheek and announced proudly with a big smile. "La duh, Zekey. The beauty with the talent and everything in between."

"Everything in between?" Sharpay nodded, and Ryan pretended to think about that, scathing his chin for extra effect. "So you mean the bitchiness, the annoyance, the spoiled selfishness, the loud-mouth ness, and the-_Aaargh!_"

Ryan was on a roll till Sharpay grabbed Zeke's can of coke, which was still full and ice-cold, and threw it at his head, knocking him right off his seat and showering him with cold soda once he hit the ground, ruining his new hat and cashmere sweater.

"Jesus, Sharpay," Kelsi commented, looking at her boyfriend who was trying to get himself back up and then to his twin sister smirking proudly. "You really have an arm!"

Stretching out her left arm, which was slender and tone like the rest of her body, the Ice Queen replied "Thanks to the years of dancing, yoga, and, of course, shopping."

By the time Ryan finally got back onto his feet, one look at him and they could barely contain their laughter that attracted the attention of nearby tables, hearing the loud noise. Completely soaked from the waist up, he looked miserable, wet, and angry. Especially as he looked at Sharpay, who was laughing the hardest and smirking the biggest when she was able to control herself.

"Real mature," he commented, causing another round of loud laughter. "That's real mature, Sharpay."

"Whatever,' Sharpay flipped off her brother, and then jerked her thumb over at Gabriella. "Back to what I was saying before, Kels, I have a good feeling your worries and prayers won't be necessary for this girl. She seems like one who knows how to take care of herself."

That was a point Sharpay was definitely right about. Gabriella didn't seem intimidated by anyone, even by the meanest teachers and cruelest students flipped everyone off, and her body language practically screamed "_Don't Go Near!"_, "_Back Off or Get Smacked!"_ She definitely was someone who knew how to take care of herself.

Troy, against his better judgment, turned back to look at Gabriella. Probably has to be the twenty-fourth time he looked at her today. She was scribbling like mad in that book of hers, sipping her coke with a red licorice stick. Then the strangest thing happened.

She put her down her soda, looked up, and looked right back at him.

What was even stranger, besides the fact the elusive, private Gabriella was sparing him a look, was the way she was looking at him.

It wasn't the same, amused look she had in Homeroom where she owe Darbus, and it was far from the cold and hard glare she gave people who try to come close to her. The way she was staring, it was like those mocha eyes behind the shades could see right through him. Very clear and intensely, as if she could see into his soul and saw everything like his dreams, his secrets, and things he didn't want anyone to know and everything else in between.

With those glasses still on, it was hard to tell what she was thinking. It also didn't help that there was no emotion on her face, which was a total blank. Nevertheless, her gaze still captured, trapping him and boring through him easily, and then he felt something. Something that felt tight, almost, like a pang, which seemed to slowly get stronger the longer they stared at one another.

"Something caught your eye, Troy," He turned around to meet the faces of his smirking, chuckling friends, who clearly saw what was going on.

"Don't be ridiculous." Troy told them. He tried staying solid and unreadable, but his face, being a traitor to him, was hot again.

"Aww. Look, he's blushing." Sharpay cooed, pointing at his face. Sure enough, exactly two seconds later, his face was bright red.

_Damn you, Sharpay_, he cursed at the blonde, as he ducked his head down, hiding his blushing face, and continued eating his lunch quickly.

It was about that time Jason decided it was the prefect opportunity to slap him hard in the back while he swallowed, causing a good of food to be stuck in his windpipe and making him choke. Jason was either deliberately ignoring it or innocently oblivious, which seemed more likely since his friend wasn't the brightest bulb, to his choking and slung an arm around his shoulder. "About time a girl finally catches the infamous, no-date Bolton's eye. You were starting to make us think you were gay."

"Not that we judge you for that." Ryan quickly added.

_GAY?_

"You're-" He coughed. "You're-"Another cough again. "You're-" He freed himself from Jason's arm and quickly dunked down the rest of his water, pounding his chest hard for extra effect. When he was sure everything went down, he said "You're kidding me right?"

Their laughter and smiles said it all, making him roll his eyes.

"You can't really blame us, Troy." Chad smiled.

"Since middle school, more than half of the female student population has been asking you out on dates on a rotating basis," Sharpay stated. "And you turned down every offer on a rotating basis."

"And this means me seem gay because?" Troy inquired.

"Well, considering a lot of them are smoking hot girls, Troy," Zeke chuckled as Troy glared at him. "That definitely does say something."

"And like Ryan says," Taylor said. "Even if you are, we totally support. We don't have a problem with gays."

"First off, you guys are ridiculous," Troy pushed away his half-eaten sandwich, his appetite long gone. "Second of all, I don't have time for dating. This is senior year, _my year_, and I have four goals I plan to make this year happen for me."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Troy," Chad shared a knowing glare with the rest of his friends and rolled his eyes before looking Troy's way. "You told us it so many times we can recite in our sleep. Goal one: don't get anything lower than an A- this year."

"Goal two," Ryan said next. "Make sure the Wildcats have a back-to-back winning season with zero loses. Failure not being a choice."

"Goal three," Zeke and Jason wrapped their arms around each other's shoulders and wore big, cheesy grins Troy wanted to knock off their faces as they said in unison. "Impress scout who can be my one-way ticket to basketball scholarship."

"And goal four," They said in unison, wearing identical, cheesy grins. "Get accepted into awesome, dream college that's far away from here and get as far away from Daddy as possible."

Troy had such an urge to shove his wasted sandwich into their faces; it took him nearly everything he had not to do the deed. He clenched his both hands into tight fists under his table and took deep breaths till the frustration passed. "Funny. Real funny. I'm such a big nerd, its wonder why you guys even put up with me."

"Because a handsome, dashing, intelligent three-year old that grow up to be a _God_ took pity on a lonely, sad little boy sitting in the corner in his preschool class while the other children were playing," A scowl from Troy and laughter from the others encouraged Chad to continue. "That handsome dare-devil decided to do the right thing and be friends with that little boy. And the rest is history, my friends."

Ignoring his friend, Troy said "You can mock me all you want, but it won't change anything. Unlike the rest of you, I have four goals that will get into U of A, get me out of this hell-hole, and get me started on my future."

"Your future, Troy?' Chad asked. All jokes and laughter aside, he was actually being serious. "Or your dad's?"

"Especially when we all know that six generations of Boltons have gotten into and graduated from U of A." Ryan added.

Ignoring them, Troy focused his attention on wall and drummed his fingers anxiously on the table.

"You mean _seven_," Sharpay corrected, watching Troy's body immediately become tense before he glared at her coldly. She was used to getting cold stares all the time, so it didn't bother her at all. And even though she knew this was something Troy didn't want to talk about, she felt her friend needed a wake-up call and reminder to why things were the way they were, especially since his dad was sucking the life out of him already before he could even start it. "A Bolton right after dear Daddy Bolton and before Troy."

"Sharpay, don't!" Troy begged. She loved to annoy him, but even she knew there were limitations to what he could handle and was unacceptable. And what she was doing right now, or trying to do, was definitely that. "Drop it!"

Tension was building and the others were getting worried, sensing trouble was lurking close by.

"Sharpay, sweetie, maybe you should-" Sharpay cut off Zeke's plead with a dismissing hand.

"I'm not going to fucking drop it, Zeke! He needs a reminder to why his dad is such a hard-ass," She then turned to Troy, who was fuming now. "I think you know exactly who I'm talking about, Bolton. He graduated from East High with the highest honors, got into U of A with the highest honors, and would have been on a professional basketball team by now. The first Bolton to ever make it that far."

"Guys!" Chad said. "How about we move onto a less, serious topic?"

"Shut up!" Troy growled through grinded teeth, saying it both to his best friend and the Ice Queen. The frustration he brushed off earlier when they were teasing him came back with vengeance, only bigger and darker, along with bitter, bitter anger, building up inside him and having him shaking a bit.

"Sharpay, drop it!" Taylor said. "Please."

"I'm not going to fucking drop it!" Sharpay repeated, keeping her eyes on Troy. "You don't remember, Troy? I'll just tell you. Michael. Michael David Bolton, who was that seventh Bolton. Jack's favorite son, East High's finest, my dream boyfriend and crush for years, and your-"

This time Troy was the one who cut her off, doing it in a most dramatic, yet effective way. By slamming his hard fists onto the table, spilling and knocking off contents, the sound emapszing in the suddenly quiet like a loud stampede passing by. "_SHUT THAT FUCKING MOUTH OR YOURS, YOU GODDAMN BITCH, OR I SWEAR ON MY FUCKING LIFE I WILL PERSONALLY SHUT IT FOR YOU!_"

This time, Sharpay didn't have a comeback. Possibly for the first time in her life, she was speechless and not the only one, too. Everyone in the cafeteria from students, to teachers hanging around, and the lunch staff were completely silence, because Troy Bolton, who was usually so calm and cool and collected, actually lost it and screamed.

He wished that outburst would release those build-up emotions, but it only seemed to make things worse. He left the cafeteria, slamming the doors behind him, cursing Sharpay, school, and his dad-everything and everyone actually including Mike who swore he'd be by his side forever and couldn't keep up his end of the bargain.

* * *

><p>By the time the lunch period ended, he was able to get a hold of himself. The rest of the day went by slowly, as usual, with people barely paying attention in classes as they text their friends and whispered while the ones who wanted to make the grade took down all the notes the teacher written down, lectures went practically forever at a slow pace, and teachers assigned the usual mountain-load of homework by the end, ignoring the groans and complaints.<p>

Things were normal, although Troy would have liked it a bit more if everyone wasn't gawking at him and whispering about what happened in the cafeteria, telling it in their own twisted, absurd version. But thankfully his friends quickly forgiven and forgotten about what happened, including Sharpay, who did her own share of apologizes, and were by his side till the bell finally rang and school was let out.

The only thing that didn't happen, which he couldn't consider whether or not it was a bad thing or not, was he didn't see Gabriella Montez again.

On one hand, he shouldn't even care. The girl took a glance at him, well more than a glance, but it shouldn't matter. She was rude, had a sharp tongue with an attitude to match, and trouble seem to follow her. Yet on the other hand, she was the one who saved him from the wrath of Darbus, completely telling her off without even hesitating. The first one, in East High history, to ever pull off something like that. And when she looked at him…he couldn't describe it, but it was strange. It was bewitching almost, because it he couldn't pull himself away from her even though he knew he should, and when she looked at him it was almost like nothing else mattered. That scared him.

The minute the bell rang, Troy rushed to his locker to stuff all the books he was going to need for tonight's homework, said and waved goodbye to his friends, and quickly ran all the way to the locker-room, which was across the other side of the school. Once he was there, he quickly changed into his white wife-beater shirt, navy blue shorts, and sneakers before running into the gym. Where standing in the center of the basketball court was his dad, easily dribbling the basketball in one hand while his blue eyes were concentrating on reading the time on his wristwatch.

He didn't look up till Troy was standing right in front of him, both of them silent as they looked at each other, and then chugged the ball with hard force into Troy's stomach he was able to catch. "You're late!"

"Good to see you, too, Dad." Troy rolled his eyes, but nevertheless started dribbling the ball across the court so his dad wouldn't have another thing to complain about.

Basketball practice for the team was usually every school day except Mondays and Thursdays, and those practices were usually intense with the coach keeping a watchful eye on them, barking out mistakes and orders, and were the reason why they could barely move the second practice was over. Unlike the rest of the guys, Troy was required to report to the gym every school day for a 2-3 hour practice, with his dad working him harder in these practices than the regular ones.

And a full hour of dribbling, his dad playing an intense one on one game with him, Troy was more than ready to shove the ball up his dad's….

"_For God's damn sake, you idiot!_" Jack roared, watching as Troy swung past him and missed the shot. If this was a real game, the Wildcats would be tied or possibly face defeat from the other team, both possibilities that were completely unacceptable to him. "Are you fucking stupid or blind? Or maybe you're just damn both!"

Troy pretended not to hear those comments and looked away while his dad raged on till he felt a hard fist slamming itself against his shoulder blade, the same one that was still very sensitive from the work-out practice from earlier and turned around, looking into the ice-cold, raging eyes that belonged to his dad.

"I'm fucking talking to you, jackass!" He smacked his hand against his son's head, nearly knocking it off with the hard force and left a hollow ringing in the ear. Despite the throbbing head pain, along with the pain from the shoulder punch, Troy still kept eye-contact, knowing fully well he'll only earn himself another punch or smack if he broke it or said anything. He dealt with it by balling his right hand into a _tight_, tight fist he hid behind his back, fighting off the great urge to use it against his dad's jaw. "Why the hell can't you do something right for once in your damn life instead of being fucking annoying?"

Taking in a shaky breath and slowly letting it out, he said "I just have a lot on my head. And it was only one missed shot."

Jack's eyes immediately darkened to a darker, edgier blue that nearly looked black and somehow was much colder than before. Troy could tell, despite what he was hoping for, he said the wrong thing. "Then _unclear_ it! I will not have your disgrace our family because you are a goddamn idiot who can't think straight."

That was the final straw. Troy was sweaty, tired, and couldn't take any second of his dad's anger rants without losing it. He tossed aside the basketball and went out the back door, ignoring the screams of his dad ordering him to come back. Once he was outside the back of the school, he slumped down to the ground, the grass feeling warm and somewhat comforting beneath him, and groaned as he softly banged his head against the wall behind him.

_Bring disgrace into the family_, Troy grumbled curses under his breath. _Yeah, right._

He decided not to think about his dad anymore and looked around his surroundings, a technique he's been doing since he was kid that always calm him down during moments like this. The grass, the football field, the blue sky, _his goddamn dad inside the gym_. The grass, the birds chirping, the blue sky. The grass, the denim bag dangling out a window, the-

_Wait a minute!_ _Denim bag!_ Troy broke off from the trance of his mediation exercise, then turned back to right, watching a denim messenger bag that looked like it was made out of jeans, adorned with logo and colorful buttons, dangle out a two-story building before falling onto the ground. Amazing, none of the contents in the bag spilled.

_Who the hell tosses out a backpack?_ Troy wondered, but soon his question got answered as a small figure with black hair in cowboy boots swung out her legs from the window before jumping out, landing perfectly on her two feet, and brushing back loose curls of her hair away from her eyes as she turned back to the window.

Gabriella smirked to herself, looking very proud, grabbed her bag off the ground, and hitched it onto her left shoulder, digging through the contents till she pulled out a dark pink Bic lighter and a pack of Marlboro cigarettes. For some reason fascinated by it and finding his feet walking towards her, he watched as she pulled a cigarette from the pack before putting it back into her bag, lit up the cigarette, and stuck it into her mouth.

"Pup Bolton," Gabriella took a long drag of her cigarette before pulling out of her mouth, releasing a stream of smoke gracefully from her mouth like an old-glamour movie star instead of the clumsy way some other girls did it. If she was surprised to see him watching her escape and being this close to her, she definitely didn't show it. In fact, by the way she was smirking a bit at him and looking at him, it was almost like she was waiting for him. "How goes it?"

"Okay," He mumbled, trying not to breathe in the smoke and taking a few feet back from her. If his dad even smelt smoke on his clothes, then today would probably be the last day anyone would remember seeing him alive. "How about you?"

"So, so." She answered, shrugging.

The silence between them lengthened, and Troy was nervously rubbed the back of his neck, unsure what to do at this point. Should he go back? A part of him, the obedient part, wanted to head back into the gym, but he wasn't in the mood for another round of _Dad Screams Complaints_. But another part of him, for some odd reason, wanted to stay and the rest of his body seem compel to follow that part. The only problem was the silence was getting very awkward, very quickly and he needed to think of something to talk about and fast.

"You know you shouldn't smoke here," Troy felt the need to remind her. After all she did save him from Darbus this morning, so it was the least he could do. "You could get detention."

In a instant, her small smirk quickly became the dark scowl she's been wearing all day in school. She pushed her glasses down the tip of her nose, her eyes dark and hard, watching him for a moment and slowly smirking again as she took another drag of her cigarette. "Been there, done that. I wasted a good hour in that hellhole because Ms. Dumbass, along with the other idiots, couldn't handle the truth. It's sad really. Anyway, I'm making a break for it while she's sleeping at her desk and there's still day-time."

"But you'll get in trouble?" Troy had detention once during freshmen when he walked into homeroom two seconds late and Ms. Darbus decided to use him as an example to what happens when you're not in her room before the second bell. He spent three hours helping the drama club make set for their musical, poorly sew the costumes that looked less than amazing, and personally apologized to Ms. Darbus. He was tempted to leave, but knew he'd be a dead man if he even left for a second. How the heck can this girl not care about getting into trouble?

Shrugging again while using her free hand to push her glasses onto the top of her head, she tossed the cigarette on the ground and stomped onto it, crushing it to bits and putting it out. "Maybe, but that's not going to stop me. So do me a good favor and pretend you didn't see me. K? K."

What? He watched as she winked to him, causing a strange tingle to run up his spine, walked away from him, heading toward the parking lot. "You can get into a lot of trouble, you know!" He called after her. "You're breaking a lot of rules."

She stopped for a moment to look at him. Intensely and deeply, as if he was a hard book she was trying to read, making that odd pang appear in his stomach that was growing stronger the longer she was looking at him. She then, oddly, offered a small smile that was mischievous but far from a smirk. "Sometimes rules are meant to be broken, pup."

She hopped onto a black Hurley motorcycle and put on a fiery-red helmet, starting up the engine and driving away without looking back, leaving him stunned.

_Rules are meant to be broken_, he thought, puzzled. Was she actually serious? He thought she really was, but the way she was looking at him it was clear that was a no-joke matter.

What the hell was it about this girl anyway? She definitely wasn't shy, far from a preppy cheerleader, didn't seem like one who'd be interested in joining anything really. And more importantly, what was it about her that made him feel…strange and twisted inside?

"Bolton!" Troy groaned before slowly turning back, seeing his dad standing by the gym door and looking really mad. "In the gym. NOW!"

"I'm coming." He waited a few more seconds, staring at the place where the she rode off, before he walked back toward the gym, trying to forget about the bewitching girl who made feel things he never felt before.

Its senior year, his year. Like he told his friends, he only had four goals and nothing, not even Miss Mysterious, Bad-Ass Montez, were going to get in the way of his perfect schedule and those goals.

.


	3. Chapter 3

**E.T Chapter 3: Family Bonding and Issues **

The Boltons have always been rich. Ever since Troy's great, great grandfather bootlegged and scammed his way to top of success, making others lose money while he gained it. He soon became a multi-billionaire, head of his company that became quite successful in ripping off people. His pretty wife, great Gram May, started her successful makeup business. Since then generations and generations of Boltons didn't have to worry about money, being absolutely finical-secured.

Take now. According to the will of his rich granddad, everything in his estate and fortunate was left to his sons, Jack and Toby. It was because of this his parents could throw away money and never has to worry about it running out. It was because of this they lived in one of the nicest, richest neighborhoods, where every house had a swimming pool or tennis court or both, and so much more.

To Troy, it was another reason why his dad was even more a small-minded jackass. For him, being rich had its' perks and upsets. The perks, included, living in a celebrity-like mansion he knew families would kill for to live in, where every room was twelve times larger than an average one and included servants to wait on them. Also having a wide-screen TV and the finest stereo-system and both a flat-screen computer and the newest Mac notebook. Having a work-out room that was practically an in-house gym as well as a swimming pool in the back.

The upsets, however, included another reason for his dad to complain. To complain if he spent a bit too much money, complain if he was being cheap and wasn't spending enough.

Sometimes he believed his dad lives for complaints the way people live for food. It was like coffee, caffeine that kept him going. And he, dear old son, was the caffeine to his dad's black coffee.

"Troy?" his mom said, her voice breaking him out his retrieve.

"Yes mom." He looked up from his dinner plate to his mother's concerned eyes and his dad's cool, arched eyebrow. Something told him they've been calling his name for quite awhile.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" his mother asked. "You barely touched your plate, and I had Doris make your favorites."

Troy looked down at his plate, which consisted of Doris's famous, mouth-watering fried chicken, mashed potatoes with extra gravy, and cornbread on the side. On any other day, he'd be finished with in 2.5 minutes by now and move onto his second serving. But tonight he could barely swallow down the small bites he took.

Maybe it was because he was worried about the Calculus test on Friday. It was his hardest AP class he could never understand, no matter how hard he studied. Maybe because he still needed to figure out tactics for the next game the team has to go over? Or maybe it was because…

_No_, he gave himself a good smack in the face for thinking that. God, no. He wasn't going to go there. "Just a lot on my mind, mom."

His mom smiled and nodded in understanding, but he could see in her eyes she really didn't. That was no surprise to him.

According to his parents' friends, Troy was all his father and zero of his mother. Lucille Bolton was a beautiful woman, in a mom sort of way, with straight auburn hair she preferred keeping at shoulder-length, emerald green eyes that sparkled when the light hit them, and a fit figure. Being the head of M.A.C Makeup Company, she was mostly in New York. If she wasn't there, then she was traveling all over the world, spending more time in Europe or the big city than at home with them.

When she was home, she tried balancing her time between being a good wife, an attentive friend to her friends who needed an ear to listen to and a shoulder to cry on, and a good and attentive mother to him. She was the only parent who showed him any kind of affection, unlike his dad who didn't even understand the meaning of the word.

Even though she did try her best, he knew his mom didn't understand him, no matter how much she tried reaching out. Troy could tell by the hurt in her eyes and the irritated glare his dad would give him after he saw the look, they both thought it was his fault. Maybe it was, but then again she was the one who choose to work so much and so far away. According to her, the reason for this was, "I just need to take a breather from home, Troy. Nothing's wrong with a little me time from time to time."

He was fifteen at the time when he asked her why she was so out so much. And when he nodded, accepting her answer, he knew there was more to the story. Another important she kept buried in her eyes and in her heart, where she felt it was best to left it there.

"Hope it's on important things. Like getting good grades, practicing hard, and impressing scouts." His dad, always a big help, said and took a sip of his water. He gave him a cool gaze that read _Not __to __mention __making __sure __you __don__'__t __make __me __look __like __an __idiot, __idiot_.

"Right, dad, like I can actually make you look like an idiot. You do a good job of that on your own." Troy longed to say those words. The words were right there, at the tip of his tongue, ready to lash out. But he forced himself to keep quiet and swallow those words.

He picked at his food instead.

"So," His mom glanced at her husband, whose steely gaze was burning holes into her son's forehead, and over at her son, who kept his head down at his plate. Tension hovered over their heads, thickening the air. She fidgeted with a lock of her hair and tried to think of a way to break the tension. Once she had the idea, she smiled at her son and said "How was school, dear?"

_Great __way __to __break __the __tension, __Mom._ That was always her first and only resort to break the ice.

"Alright, I guess." Troy answered. "I pretty much aced my History test, got an A on my Chemistry test, did well on my French paper-"

"And talk back to me during practice." His dad cut him off.

His mother looked over at her husband and his stern eyes, then over at her son with his head still down but looked noticeably sheepish. Troy choosing not to look her in the eye confirmed. She gasped in shock as if such a thing wasn't and couldn't be possible. Her shock quickly turned into annoyance, and she frowned at him "Troy Alexander Bolton. I know you weren't raised to behave like that."

He couldn't believe she was taking his dad's side. Well, actually, he _could_ believe it because usually she did, but it still hurt she took his side so quickly without listening to his reasons first. Before he had a chance to defend himself, his dad charged in, saying "I know, Lucille, I know. He's a Bolton for God's sake, but he chooses act like an idiot. The kid is not focus. He seems to miss the big picture."

His parents then talked about what could make such a boy, who's been blessed with everything, act such a way. They blamed it on reality TV, rappers and the horrible music teens choose to listen to, even threw in his friends who might be influencing him. Like Sharpay for being so dramatic and demanding. Taylor for being a Miss-know-it-all with her smart mouth that was ready to talk back. Jason for being…well, Jason. And even Chad, his co-captain, his best friend since preschool, was named by his father because he didn't take life as serious as he should.

They were so wound up in their conversation on what was wrong with their son, they barely noticed their son gotten up from the table and left them in the dining room.

Once he was upstairs in his room, the first thing he did was to lock the door. His dad was the on who made the rule against locking doors, in case there was an emergency and they needed easy access. But today he needed it lock, because he needed some kind of wall against his dad.

A physical one, at least. The mental and emotional one he already had covered.

Taking in a slow, deep breath he let out slowly, Tory ran his hand through his hair, a habitat he always does whenever he was nervous. Or overwhelmed like he was right now. He moved slowly across his room, making his way over to the massive book collection behind his computer and laptop, where pictures stood on the shelves. Dozens of pictures he developed and framed.

Pictures of his friends mostly. Few of his parents, although they were more of his mom than his dad. Moments he wanted to capture during everyday life. And one particular picture that never failed to hit him hard whenever he dared looked at it.

Slowly he reached for it and held it front of him. He held the framed picture so delicately, as if it could shatter into pieces any second.

He was only eleven when he developed it, his very first picture. The picture was blurry, due to the way he rushed to take the picture and develop it, but still he was proud just the same. In the picture, there was him at eleven, smiling big but looking up, his dad at the far right corner, who looked bored to tears, and a young man in the middle with ocean-blue eyes, chestnut hair, and whose smile was the brightest out of them all.

"_No matter what, Troy, nothing could break the M.T bond."_

"_You promise, Mike?" Even at eleven, he still had his reasons to do doubt and hope. _

_All it took was a one smile from smile, a smile so sure and bright, which took away the doubt and assured the hope. "Always. I'll never leave you, Troy."_

"_I__'__ll __never __leave __you, __Troy.__" _ Those words echoed inside his head, their dark shadow lurking over him and setting a heavy pain inside his heart.

"Funny how promises can't always pull through, huh, Mike?"

The guilt, the pain, the demons never failed to hit him each time he's reminded of Mike. Not just now, but today at school, when Sharpay had to call him out all because he wasn't in the time to waste his year. Whenever memories were reminded, all he sees in that moment are two cars colliding, spinning out of control, glass shattering and showering like shiny rain, and pain hitting him like he was punched everywhere more than millions of times.

Troy could already feel tears gathering in his eyes as he looked on at the picture, his mind going back to that day. Flashes of a car that was driving easily down the street and another, all of the sudden, crashing against the side, glass and blood flying and pooling all around, Mike's easy smile wearying off into pure terror before everything then went black.

_Stop_, he commanded himself. He needed to stop before everything comes tumbling down. Before he starts to lose himself again.

Putting the photo back to where it was and titling it off a certain angel till it couldn't be seen, Troy took a minute to rub his eyes hard and gather himself together. He had to get over it. The past was the past, and, as his dad always said, there was no better way of dealing with it then forgetting. It was exactly what he needed to do.

He looked over the mountain of textbooks and notebooks resting on his coffee table, with notes cards and binders opened and all spread over. There was always so much homework given, but barely time to have it all done in one day.

He seated himself upon his black leather, soft couch and gotten himself comfortable. It was apparently worth ten thousand, and his mom gotten for him at his late birthday, along with the complete set and black and gray coffee table to match it. He looked over at the twenty five pages worth of notes he taken in French class today he needed to memorize for another quiz, at the opened Calculus textbook page where there were twenty problems he had do and show all the work. Each problem was going to take at least an hour so to do.

His dad says he was losing focus, but he really didn't have a friggering clue. He says he needed to pull his head from the clouds, but had no idea there was no such things in his world other than his goals. If he was so lazy like he was claimed to be, then he wouldn't be killing himself. Killing himself to do amazing in all his AP classes and staying the top of his class, wouldn't bother working so hard and studying so late so he can get impressive grades, wouldn't be trying to balance school and basketball if he wasn't so determined to get the hell out of college and move far away from him.

Troy longed for the day when he can just look his dad right in the eye and yell at him unless his lungs died out or his voice officially broke. Every single time when his dad yells at him, pushes him harder, and belittles him, he wants to scream how he was an asshole, that he was so sick of him, and stick it to his face the way he did every chance he got. But to do such a thing would mean getting on Dad's bad side because he broken a rule.

Broken rule = furious dad. Furious dad= dead man Troy. That was one equation he was more than happy to avoid at all cost. After all, he barely survives his dad's annoyed side. If he were to ever meet furious dad, he'll be erased from history.

He sighed, taking a break from his studies and thoughts, taking in a deep breath as he ran his hands through his hair. Letting emotion get in the way wasn't worth the risk, no matter how furious his dad made him.

"_Sometimes rules are meant to be broken, pup."_

He frowned at himself, allowing the words to sink in for a bit before shaking himself hard to be rid of them. What the hell was he thinking? What the hell was _she_thinking?

Gabriella Montez had absolutely no idea what the hell she was talking, because she didn't have a clue. Although Troy doesn't know her personally, he survived high school enough to know her type. Smart-mouthed, lazy, likely to drop out soon enough if the school doesn't expel her first.

Despite what his friends said about him having a crush, he knew better. He stared at her a couple of times. So what? She was pretty. Ok, _more_than just pretty, but that wasn't the point.

She was an obstacle that could possibly block him if he allowed it. Another bystander he planned to ignore, if not tolerate.

That was the case. He was sure of it.

So, why then couldn't he stop thinking about her?

* * *

><p>Over at Starbucks on Wayward Street, business was slow. Only about three or so customers came in for a late night run, with several employees taking last minute orders or cleaning up the place.<p>

If anyone were to ask the employees how they felt about working there, half would say they don't mind and the other that they wanted out.

If someone were to ask a certain raven-haired employee, she was it was neutral. She's not crazy about working, but it was better than being broke. Besides the job had it perks: the pay was affair, the hours she could work into her schedule, and there were certain benefits to working there.

Take for example, spending half of break hour, having some somewhere.

She pulled away from him long enough to catch her breath, but quickly found herself being shoved against the wall, her body pinned down and lips crashed against hers, kissing her fervently. One hand traveled to her back, creeping underneath her tank top and stroking her bare back. His other hand landed on her left thigh, stroking her skin.

He wasn't the only one doing exploring. His shirt was long gone, being stripped off by her and tossed somewhere, and her hands moved up and down his chest. She went especially slow to get a pleading, pleasurably reaction from him, and the way he pressed himself more against her and moaned more in her mouth told her he loved it but wanted more.

She pulled back again to catch her breath, but he refused to let it end so soon. He decided to try his own torment on her, attacking her neck with sweet lips and moving both hands over to the front, kneading her breasts and brushing against them repeatedly in such a way her nipples quickly hardened.

"Oh good God!" she breathed, titling her head back. She closed her eyes in pure bliss, her petite body trembling. If this was torture, then please, dear God, bring on the pain. "I needed this."

Nothing like a good, hot make-out session in the backroom to take her mind off things. It was also the best way to spend her last thirty minutes of break.

Of course, it helps her kissing partner is an amazing kisser who knows how to please her.

She grabbed his face and kissed him, smiling against his lips as their tongues battled. While kissing, she took a peek over at the clock. According to time, her break needed ten minutes ago and she needed to get back to work.

Sighing, Gabriella pushed him away, needing nearly all her strength to do so because things were about to heavy and he was really into it. She then straightened herself up, fixing her hair and her clothes. Some employees may come to the back room while they were checking stock or on their break to hookup, but it didn't mean Mr. Boss Man was going to be thrilled seeing them disheveled and flushed when they come out.

Once Gabriella was sure she looked decent, she turned back, feeling a pair of eyes burning into the back of her hand. She smiled at the irritated, dark glare he shot her. "Don't hate the kisser, Robbie, hate the timing. Besides, you look like an old man when you frown."

He glared at her, arms crossed and irritation shown in his eyes, but she continued to smile. She watched a small twitching quivering at the corner of lip, tugging at the left corner, and soon a smiled blossomed. He never was one to stay annoyed for too long, which was one of the things she loved about him. "You know you can be such a bitch sometimes."

She smirked. "Better a bitch than a jackass player."

For that comment, he shoved her playfully, a shove she playfully and firmly returned right back. One shoved turned into another, then another, then another, erupting into a shoving fight Robbie ended by seizing her arms and kissing her before she could protest.

She allowed herself to respond to the kiss, but quickly freed herself and pulled before their tongues could meet again. They were late enough as it is. And grabbing her and distracting her with a kiss was cheating, and he knew it, too.

"Bitch." She stuck her tongue out at him.

"You know you want me, baby." He winked flirtatiously and she couldn't resist laughing.

Robert "Robbie" Lewis was a fellow Starbucks employee. He was originally from Boston, but came down to Albuquerque because he won a full-paid scholarship to one of the local community colleges. Aside from going to classes and turning in hundreds of papers, he worked most double shifts to pay for his small apartment, which were right in her neighborhood. They were only two houses down from each other.

He was twenty-two years old, African-American, and would be as one as describe as "hot chocolate", extra on the hot. Lean and tall, well built with gorgeous abs, a handsome face with none of the baby-cute fatness and chocolate brown eyes that could make a girl's heart stop with one stare.

He was also the closest thing to a best friend she had in this shit-hole own, besides Anita. They had the same taste in nearly everything from books to movies, the only one she can take both seriously and make her laugh at the same time, was a incredibly dancer whose skills matched her own, and, when they were together, it was endless fun. Sometimes their close friendship becomes even closer when they needed a distraction and were allowed to certain benefits.

Arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, they left the backroom and smiled innocently at the dark glare their short, overweight manager, Randy gave them as they passed by. It took them everything they had to keep walking and not burst into laughter.

Gabriella went back to the register, taking twelve more orders. On a full moon, the customer would be content enough to toss spare change in the tip jar. Rarely, did she ever see a dollar bill in the bill. But she wouldn't go as far as to say she was often empty-handed during her shifts. The male customers always threw in their phone numbers in her and winked as she passed them their order.

She'd look over at the jar and smile, and the smile of his face would broaden. Then as soon as the guy was out of sight, still wearing the smile, she tossed it in the trash.

While she was busy up there, Robbie went around the small café, loading left over dishes and trash into the tray and collecting the very few tips customers would leave behind. Money tips were quite a rarity for him, too, but he got plenty of phone numbers from female customers who'd take an interest in them.

She watched, amused, as her friend flirted with a cute strawberry blonde, who was long done with her mocha combo but waited anxiously for him to come to her table. Blondie, in no time, was twirling her finger as she blushed, looking away but smiling, as Robbie leaned in close to her, wearing his confident smile Gabriella had seen won the hearts of millions of girls.

"Maybe if you're not busy later, we can have some fun back at my place." he suggested, which predictably the blonde accepted in two seconds flat with an eager nod and smile.

_See __it, __bait, __and __you __have __it._Robbie's surefire way of getting girls that never failed.

The girls loved Robbie and Robbie loved girls. Her friend may be what one would call a player, but he was more of the respectable type. He may be a man whore who sleeps with thousands of girls, but he wasn't perverted. He let girl know right up the front it was all fun and nothing serious, treats her with respect and a lady all throughout, and doesn't share X-rated details with his friends other than the fact he had sex.

He was like her: loves the fun, but doesn't share info.

By eleven, Gabriella clocked out and was ready to go. She nodded bye to Robbie, hopped onto her Harley, and rode off home.

By the time she was upstairs to the she shared with her brother and his apartment and came inside; she immediately knew something was up.

Everything was quiet, too quiet, and she could smell smoke. Peering inside the living room, she saw her brother, Javier, lounging on the chair in the living room, staring at the TV and chain-smoking, the dark frown on his face indicating he was not happy.

She was in trouble.

If she was any other person, she would have panicked and tried seeing if she could sneak out before she was seen. Only she wasn't any other person, she was her. There was little point to doing that since he probably heard her come in and she might as well face the music.

She went into the living room and leaned against the TV set. Her brother took no notice of her, just staring at the TV set and smoking his cigarette. Curious, she sneaked a peek and saw it was off. If Gabriella wanted to play the usual annoying sister role, she'd made a comment to him how the TV needed to be on in order for him to watch it. Taking it one step further, she'd reminded of his no indoor-smoking rule, for Paco's sake. But seeing his still form and chain smoking she knew better.

She was in a shit load of trouble.

Finally, with a stab of his cigarette into the ashtray, he lifted his head up, dark eyes meeting dark eyes.

"Why the fuck do you do this? Is it funny?" he asked. "Some kind of fucking joke?"

Gabriella frowned, returning his glare with her own that was ten times darker and colder. Maybe she should have teased him when she had the chance. "What the fuck did I do?"

"Don't play dumb, Gabriella. I'm _not_ in the mood," he sneered. The way his free hand gripped so tightly onto the arm rest, it was all too clear he was trying not to lose it. "I thought to myself this morning, there's no way she's going to screw this up. There's no way Gabriella can be that stupid or careless. Boy was I such a fucking idiot."

Despite the tension in the air, Gabriella did little to resist rolling her eyes. She saw how that simple gesture made anger flare in his eyes, which made her roll her eyes again. "For fuck's sake, Javier, its only school. It's not my fault you sent me to a school full of assholes. It's no big deal."

"No big deal," Javier repeated, and after staring at her for a moment, nodded his head, absorbing her words. Suddenly he shot up from the chair, control completely gone and anger fuming. "_It__'__s __a __big __fucking __deal._More than you know so don't even pretend. Ms. Teeter's been riding up both our asses, waiting for any excuse she can find."

Gabriella scowled at the name. Ms. Teeter was, in one word, a bitch. A snooty, uptight bitch she hated almost as much as Javier hated her.

"She's not going to find out-" Javier cut her off, his voice growing louder the angrier he became.

"Of course she'll find out! And when she does, there's nothing I can do. I don't think you realize how much I and Anita are killing ourselves right now," Pointing at the second door, on the left side, in the hallway, where inside her nephew, Paco, was fast asleep, he yelled. "We have a baby now! A son to take care of. We have to worry about extra food and clothes, diapers, soon nursery school, etc. With a teenage girl now on our shoulders, we have to worry about high school and college. If we can even afford it. Add that to rent and bills, we have to find shifts to work every chance we get to pay for all this shit!"

"Screw you!" she shouted at him. "I could live on my own then."

"Right," Javier snorted, looked at her, and gave the infamous Montez's smile. It was an odd smile, half pitying, half sarcastic, and bitter amusement thrown in between. Gabriella wanted to punch his teeth in, seeing that smile. "Because that was working out so well before."

"_Screw __you!_" she screamed, but he continued on like he didn't hear her.

"Or, even better, move back with Mom."

Never was she gladder she was wearing her shades, otherwise he'd see the shocked, wide-eyed look on her face. She sucked in her breath, paralyzed. That was the lowest blow, a big smack to her face that stung hotly.

He knew it, too. Understood how much it affected her, how much it hurt, but still he said it.

While she was shaken on the inside and mentally flinched, on the out she remained her cool stare. "Well, at least I don't break a promise and walk away."

The anger in his eyes were no longer mild or even fuming, they were the heart of the fire itself and _furiously _engaged. She knew she struck him hard right back where it hurt. Angrily glaring at her, his eyes were cold enough to freeze a heart and kept their gaze locked on her as he took a step forward. Before a word could utter from him, a loud wail cut him off. It came from Paco's bedroom, where the baby was wide awake and reacting to the yelling.

Javier glanced at the room, then over at Gabriella. The look he gave her was a combination between _As __if __I __didn__'__t __have __enough __to __deal __with _and _Now __look __what __you __did._ Swearing at her under his breath, he went to see about his soon, missing the evil-eye and screw-you finger Gabriella shot him from behind.

By the time Javier came back into the room, with his son asleep again after a quick diaper change and lullaby, Gabriella had her back turned to him, staring straight ahead while feeling his eyes set on her. She could feel his eyes gazing at her, possibly debating whether or not to come closer to her.

He finally closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. For a moment, limp in his arms, neither returning nor pulling away from the hug, she was debating what she should do. She was still furious with him for saying what he said, so furious she could throw a swing to his jaw that'd knock him off cold. But in the end, she laid her head on his arm, deciding it was the best thing she could do.

"You know I love you, right?" he murmured. "Right?"

She nodded. "Love you, too."

Yeah, they fought. Sure, they lash out at each other and get under the other's skin, saying the lowest things or doing the worst. But they had something most siblings now didn't: a close bond that easily wiped the slate clean, all forgiven and forgotten, because no matter what they always knew they had each other's back.

Though the hug ended soon, they didn't pull away from each other. Javier spun her body around, hugged her properly for the longest time, and slowly pulled her back as he placed his hands on her shoulders.

"For what it's worth, I'm really glad you're here." he said.

All she could do was nod.

"I'm serious, Gabs. I'm really glad you're here," he sighed to himself. "I know it hasn't been easy for you over the years. Considering what happened-"

"Don't!" Javier, like any typical brother no matter how good he was, crossed the lines with her plenty of times when they fought. Unlike the others, with the expectations of what he said before during their last fight, this was one were she drew the final, big line. Thankfully, for his sake as well as hers, he didn't cross it, respecting her wishes.

"Point being I love having you here." he smiled. It was the same brotherly smile full of warmth and protective affection, she remembered growing up, never failed to make her smile back at him. Even now she could feel a small smile tugging on her lips.

"I know."

All too soon he was gone and she was left, unsure what to do. She looked down at the twenty her brother slipped into her hand before he left, arching her eyebrow.

First things first.

A little over an hour and a half later, with two pepperoni and chicken pizzas she ordered from Domino's as dinner Gabriella was in bed. She ate nearly all the pizzas, saving few slices for breakfast in the morning, watched her all time favorite movie, _Sweeney__Todd_, on their DVD player that cost her three paychecks, and soon hit the hay when it gotten really late. After checking on Paco and seeing the cutie snugged tight in his bed, she went to her room, where she changed into her comfy pajamas and got into bed.

She held a lit Marlboro in one hand and her one of her favorite books, _Lock __and __Key,_smoking and reading. It was her number two to her top ten favorite books because the author really knew her stuff, the story related to her, and she and the main character Ruby were almost the same. Like Ruby, she was taught to stand on her own feet alone in this cold world.

Halfway through the book, reading where Ruby and Nate crossed paths again at the same school, Gabriella lowered her book and thought back to what she was said to Javier about her new school. About it being a school full of assholes.

She was right, of course. She didn't need to be in school for ten minutes to know it was a shithole.

Except for one thing.

Pup.

All of kids were staring at her in school today, at every class she was in. Especially at homeroom, where everyone was trying to figure out who she was, including him. But there was something about him, something off, that made him stand out in her radar. Maybe it was because he was the only one who had the guts to meet her gaze and not be easily intimidated. Maybe it was because he talked to her instead of stare. Or maybe…

Gabriella smiled to herself as she shook her head, taking one last drag of her Marlboro before smashing it into the ashtray, lying back on her back.

Making friends wasn't exactly on her agenda list in this new town. Live her brother and get reacquainted with him, go the school and try to graduate, and go to California, where a new chapter in her life can begin. With absolutely no ties, besides the expectation of her family and Robbie, holding her back.

Sighing, she switched off her lamp, pulled the warm blankets over her head, and fell asleep almost instantly.

As she slept, a pair of baby blue eyes stared deep into her eyes. Full of shyness, full of uncertain, yet filled with longing for something beyond his touch.


	4. Chapter 4

**ET: Chapter 4: Partners?**

Two whole weeks have gone by, the late autumn coming closer and closer to early winter with the weather dropping and holiday's seasons arriving soon. The days came and gone, and soon they were back to Monday again, the Wildcats reaching the end of the day with their last class.

Troy bit his lip hard, trying to swallow his wince, as a searing pain shoot through his head. For talking back to his dad at practice, his training went from being three days a week to everyday, with Sundays being an expectation only because his dad watched sports all day long that day. Not only was that, but now everything in his training routine doubled. Doubled the jump roping, double the push ups, double the running, double everything. This morning he made a huge mistake telling his dad his head was spinning, and, "fixing the problem", his dad smacked his on the head with his heavy tin water bottle.

He managed to cover the bruises, but the pain was still searing, too raw to ignore.

"You okay?" Taylor whispered. She was seated to him.

"Yeah." He smiled. Though she took notice and nodded, he could tell she didn't believe it. Luckily she didn't have time to question further because the final bell rang, cuing classes to start.

"Alright students," said Mr. Cummings. "All of you to your seats."

Creative Literature was Troy's last class of the day. It was a combination of between English, Film, and Creativity Writing, where they watch films and read recommended books and discuss them and where they also write short stories and poems. It was a very popular elective, but only a dozen were selected for the class each year. As hard it was to be in the class, it was ten times harder to stay in the class.

Mr. Cummings was one of the toughest teachers, a hundred times tougher than Darbus and somehow twice as stern as Troy's dad, which Troy never believed could be possible. He was a tall man, about 6'7, with a body of a stronger bodybuilder, which always made him look like he was bursting out of his suits, the wrinkles and gray mustache of an old man, and the stern voice and steel ice-blue eyes of someone of a commanding officer in the army. Rumors swirled around he was a distant relative to the famous poet E.E Cummings because, besides his last name, the way the man was so passionate about Literature. He lived, breathed, and ate it.

He wrote a couple of poems for the New Yorker, which are amazing and eaten up by his fans, and already published more than several books that quickly became best-sellers.

The classroom was small, almost the same size as the homeroom, but decorated in a different style. Ceiling length bookshelves were at every wall, a station of computers in the back with two typewriters from Mr. Cummings' collection no one uses, posters of famous quotes plastered on the wall and cut outs of famous figures standing by each corner, and, instead of desks, they were seated in three long tables.

"Now, students," the teacher said. "I'm sure, as all of you recall, we've been studying for the past few weeks-"

It was that moment Gabriella Montez decided to make her appearance. Unlike most devoted rebels, she doesn't cut classes. She comes to them, but takes her sweet time getting there, often arriving either ten minute after the second bell rang or when they were ten minutes left in class. She wore a white and black shoulder-off top that had billowy loose sleeves but was tight around her chest, fiery-red tight jeans tucked into her black leather boots stubbed with sliver, and her black shades masked her face.

Sunlight streaming from the window hit her glasses, deflecting the light.

She waited for a moment, waiting them while brushing her loose hair back, and took her seat at the empty chair by the far left corner in the first table.

Sitting right in front of Troy.

"Thank you for joining us, Ms. Montez," Mr. Cummings said.

A shrug and a smirk were her responses.

No one had any idea how Gabriella managed to be in this class. Only a handful of seniors with the most outstanding grades in English through the first three years of high school were gain admission. There were a few rumors that she was a genius, a creative writer whose stories put others to shame, but that seemed far-fetched.

"Now, as I was saying," the teacher carried on. Most teachers would love the chance to humiliate a student for coming in late, but for Mr. Cummings, who hated wasted class time more than anything, he let the tardy people in and continued on with his lesson. "Since September, we've been studying and discussing different genres. Last week, for S, we talked about the supernatural and written short stories. This week we are now on R and shall be doing, a romantic's personal favorite, Romance."

The girls may be mature and poised, but they did little containing their excitement for the new topic, squealing and talking among themselves. Even Taylor was thrilled, grinning big.

Gabriella was the only one, Troy noticed, who kept quiet.

Mr. Cummings clapped his hands together to get his attention. "Yes, yes, I know. It's very exciting, ladies, but please control yourself."

Troy found himself only half-listening, something he never done before in class. His mind told him to pay attention to the teacher, but it was so hard to focus with a wicked, tempting angel perched in front of him.

Her hair was so long, it touched his table. It smelt sweet, too. Not the usual strawberry scent from shampoos, but instead smelled like jasmine and honey-suckle rose. Two flowers mixed together to make such an exotic aroma.

The smell was so intoxicating, he had such a surprising but strong urge to grab a handful of her hair and bury his nose into it.

_Focus Bolton! Focus!_

"Romanticism was a very interesting, popular era that occurred in England soon after the Enlightment. It also challenged it, believing emotion should be superior to reason. According to the era, we'd be nothing but robots if we analyzed everything we did."

"_All __you __need __is __love!_" sang a pony-tailed guy in the track team in the back row. Everyone, saved for the teacher, couldn't help laughing.

"Thank you, Mr. Sanders. But this is school. I highly suggest you save the karaoke when the next Glee audition opens up." If the class was laughing before, they were howling now. For someone usually very stern and humorless, Mr. Cummings can, when he wants to, crack a really funny remark. "Getting back to Romanticism. Instead of assigning books or writing short stories, I've decided to something a little different. We may read, but I feel some of you are slugging through the novels. And when I assign short stories, most of you want me to throw up while very few manage to help keep my stomach down when I read them."

Though the comment was crude, Troy hoped he was still one of those very few.

"But for this one you'll be doing something different: a project. I will you into a pairs, of my choosing, then you come up with an outline I expect to be typed by next Friday, each pair will do a twenty-five paper, and a visual display of any couple of Literature with an interesting love story. I, of course, will need to approve them. For the visual, and I cannot urge this enough, _be creative_. You may do a video, PowerPoint, anything."

There was an even number, six boys and six girls, so it wasn't going to be too tricky. Mr. Cummings handed out the guidelines and called out the groups.

"Zoey Matthews and Chase Brooks. Jade West and Leo Thomas. Brenna Barnes and Colin Davis,"

With each pair he called out, they quickly went to their parent and became planning on what they were doing. Troy noticed the rest of the remaining students left unknown were growing thinner and thinner. Gabriella was one of them unpaired.

"Lola Gracisas and Duce Rashawas. Taylor McKessie and Jordan Sanders. Gabriella Montez and Troy Bolton."

_No, __no, __NO!_ This proved there was no God; this proves fate just loved to torment and toy with him till he was nothing. He was paired with the most...most…_unruly_ girl in the whole school.

Everyone turned to look at them, the girls looking astonished and pity-like, and the boys jealous. It was so unfair the dull, boring jock had a chance to be close with the new hottie. While Troy sank further and further into his chair, falling onto the floor, his partner looked downright bored, as if she couldn't wait for classes to be done and over with.

Oblivious to Troy's discomfort and Gabriella's silence, Mr. Cummings carried on. "I expect the best and only the best from these projects. I expect to be wowed, people, not bored to tears. And since Valentine's Day is the most romantic day of the year, according to most romantics, that shall be the deadline for the project. This week and this week alone, I'll allow you class time to get started on your projects. Am I being surprisingly generous? Yes. Which means I hope you will take this seriously. It's worth more than half of your final grade for the term and I will put your project grade into the final grade for the overall year. You do well, then I believe you should be at ease throughout the year. Now let's get started."

The East High library was impressive, not to the mention large, even thought only less than a quarter of students actually go there willing besides for studying. Thanks to funds and generous donars, there were more than dozens of computers, more than twenty round tables and desks used for studying, and every shelf was filled with books with a ship-load of new ones coming every week. It was there Mr. Cummings' class was getting to work on their projects. Some were logged onto the computers, researching. Some were looking through shelves to find the particular, some were at the desks and writing down ideas.

Everyone seemed to know what they were doing. All expect for the last pairing, sitting over at the small round table by the window. It was in a corner, far from the others, and seclusion, so they were able to work without feeling-not too much-staring. But still they had nothing.

In front of Troy were sheets of fresh paper he ripped from his binder and his ballpoint pen in his hand. He spent the last fifteen minutes staring down at the paper and waiting for something, anything, to hit him.

He looked over at Gabriella, hoping for one moment she was like him. Paper laid in front, pen in her hand, tapping her nails or doing something while she was waiting for an idea. Sadly, disappointing hitting him hard and extinguishing his glimmer of hope. Sitting in her chair, feet propped and crossed over on the table and chair titled back a bit, sitting close but not too close to him, her attention was drawn outside, to the fields. The track runners zoomed around the area, pushing themselves despite the fact most of them looked about ready to collapse, while the coach sat in his longue chair, drinking his lemonade and yelling at them to run faster.

A flash of déjà vu hit Troy hard.

His parent didn't turn around, but it was hard to know even aware of him with those shades on. For all he knew she could sleeping. Then he noticed the mark on her shoulder blade.

Before, when she made her bold appearance into the room and stood before the class, he noticed it but thought it was nothing more than a lock of her dark hair. Now, with her hair pulled back and being closer to him, he saw it was a tattoo. It was an angel-slash-devil tattoo with the pure white halo and angel wing on the left connected to the fiery red devil horn and wing on the right.

It was like her in two ways: unusual but memorizing. There was something about it, despite how it weird and eerie it looked, that reused to let him pull his gaze away.

"Picturing me naked?" Gabriella turned and smirked.

He didn't realize how close they were, until he felt some strands of her hair brushing against him, almost like a trickle, as she shifted up. He looked up, embarrassed and annoyed at accusing, but before a word could be said he was stuck. Not just stuck, but speechless. By her eyes, which were wide-set and framed with black thick lashes, the shade of melted chocolate, staring at him the same way they stared at him at the cafeteria when they first locked eyes.

Deeply and intensely.

"Yes-I mean no-I mean-Project!" he nearly yelled out the last word as if his life depended on it. He was stammering and flushing like a complete idiot, broadening Gabriella's smirk. "We should be working on the project."

She nodded, acknowledging this. "So, in other words, you were picturing me naked?"

Dear sweet Jesus! Troy smacked his hand against his forehead so hard; he almost knocked himself off his chair and into unconsciousness. He almost wished he did so he wouldn't have to deal with this humiliating moment.

"Look," After two minutes wasted on trying to regain control of himself, he spoke slowly and calmly. Although the undertone of force in his calmness was heard even to him. "I don't know about you, but I don't want to fail-"

"And you think I do?" Her face became expressionless the instant her smirk vanished.

"I…" Again, with another stare into her eyes, his mind was gone and the only thing he was aware of was how nervous he was becoming while his tongue was being tied into a million knots. It was weird seeing her eyes this close. He assumed they were dark as her hair, but seeing them a soft, deep chocolate brown was surprising. He never thought there was anything soft about Montez other than her hair.

"The project?" she inquired, arching her eyebrow. Was she even aware of what happened?

"Um yeah," he coughed into his fist once he finally snapped out of it and rubbed his neck. Mr. Cummings was twenty-feet away from them, talking to Taylor and her partner. He was soon going to come to them, and they still didn't have an idea. "How about Romeo & Juliet?"

"Obvious,"

"Fine," Thinking about it, he had to hand it to her; it was too obvious. "Cleopatra and Marc Anthony?"

"Too many theories,"

"How about fucking Barbie and Ken then?" He's been doing all the suggesting while she was dismissing each one with a wave of her hand. It was _really_ starting to get annoying.

If there was any indication she was annoyed or shocked by his comment and the way he said it, she hid it well. Arching her brow, she smirked as she delivered a comment back to him. "Three problems with that one, pup. I ain't plastic. I have a really good feeling their love story isn't what tech had in mind. And I ain't white. Nor do I have any plans to dye my hair blonde any time soon. Save that for the Barbie wannabes."

Troy stared at her for a moment, watching as she returned her attention onto her nails, not saying anything. It took every ounce of his willpower not to slam his head onto the wooden desk and bang so many times, he'd bleed out and be blacked out. Instead he smacked his hand against his forehead, with ten times harder force, and brought his head down, cursing to himself.

It was official: they were screwed. He could kiss his beautiful A goodbye, could kiss college goodbye, and any other dream he had. Colleges weren't going to care at all that his partner wasn't serious about the project, that he tried his best in the project, or how hard he worked in school. All they were going to see was the big F, along with Mr. Cummings's letter telling them not to waste their time on a wasted student.

If his dad ever found out…

Praising Taylor and Jordan for their choice, which were Catherine and Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights, Mr. Cummings stood in front of their table, blue ballpoint pen in one hand and his clipboard in the other that was already filled with names. Names Troy wished he thought of. Such as Romeo & Juliet, Paris and Helen from _Troy_, Hamlet and Ophelia, even Cleopatra and Mark Anthony. "What do you two have for me?"

"Um…" was all Troy managed to say before slowly sinking into ground, wishing the ground could swallow him whole while Mr. Cummings frowned at him disapprovingly. "We-"

"Are doing _Carmen_."

Gabriella dropped the name so causally, as if she requested fried chicken for her lunch order or said it was going to be sunny for the weather. Not being intimidated by the teacher's stare and took no note of her partner's surprised glace.

"_Carmen_?" Troy repeated, eyebrow arched, baffled

His steel-blue eyes examining her quickly, Mr. Cummings asked "Care to elaborate, Miss Montez?"

"Of course," The amused, non-smirked smile appeared and vanished so quickly on her dark lips, it was hard to believe it was even there. Turning to Troy, she said "_Carmen_ is a famous, stunning opera by George Bizet. A tale of romance, drama, passion, etc between an inexperienced, obedient solider named Don Jose and a fiery, free-spirited gypsy named Carmen. They fell in love, but soon after Done Jose's love becomes intensely obsessive, Carmen fells for a bullfighter, Escamillo, and Done Jose ends up killing her. Symbolizes how easily love came become dark, especially if one feels it more than the other. An amazing story with the saddest ending."

It sounded more like a soap opera to Troy, but then again most love stories were that way.

"Very unusual and unexpected. In all my years teaching Romanticism, I only taught the play once and only several students done their papers or presentations based on it. It definitely will be hard to intercept it," This made Troy flushed in nervousness. "But I must, though, as difficult as it may be, I do think it will quite a thing to see."

All throughout the time he was talking, Troy wondered if he entered the Twilight zone. Mr. Cummings giving compliments. _Compliments_! Something so rare, it was non-existent.

By time he gotten himself together, Mr. Cummings was gone and Gabriella went over to one of the shelves, pulling out a heavy, brown-covered book. Coming over, she plopped it onto the desk and flipped through the pages until she gotten to the page she wanted. The page was a picture of a couple, the woman dark-haired and beautiful, leaning her body close against the tall, broad man next to her, a seductive smile playing on her crimson lips while intensity gleamed in the man's dark green eyes as he looked down at her.

"Carmen and Done Jose." It didn't take a genius to figure out who it could.

"The one and only." Gabriella nodded.

They weren't exactly what Troy had in mind. Their love story seemed more complicated and weird than anything he ever heard of. But the teacher already written down, so there was nothing left to do but do it.

Sighing, Troy wrote down plans for the project. "So we both do as much research and try to have the outline done by Wednesday. Thursday the latest. I know it seems crazy since he said we have two weeks to do it, but I like getting things done as soon as possible. We can talk about the history, the setting, the symbolism, the message-"

"Dancing."

"Yes, dancing-what a minute! What?" he asked, close to writing it down.

Her lips curved up slightly. Troy couldn't be sure but it looked more like a smile than a smirk, but before he could be sure, it was gone the very next second. "Yes, pup, dancing. You heard of it, right? A movement of an expression. Swaying your hips to the music, tapping your feet, practically having sex on the floor when the music gets just about hot-"

"I know what it is!" he snapped, which brought back the smile-like curl to her lips. Just like that, it vanished all it soon. "I just…I just…"

"Dancing is a huge element in Carmen."

"I realize that, but I just-" Gabriella cut him off, leaning closer to him and peering at his face.

"You don't know how to dance, do you?" It wasn't a question; more like a fact she felt the need to express. A fact he confirmed by looking away and sheepishly robbing his neck.

"I do," she arched her eyebrow in disbelief, and he forced himself to confess. "Okay, fine, I can't dance to save my life."

She didn't laugh, like he expected, or smirked again. She simply nodded, then returned her attention back to the picture, tracing Carmen's profile with a look in her eyes he couldn't explain.

He looked at the picture, too, then glanced up at the clock. It was almost three, in about ten seconds. He quickly scribbled down as much information the page next to the picture said.

"Okay, let's each do our own research and try to come up with ideas in the morning. I know we have all week to start preparing, but I think we should find someplace to meet to do the rest. Maybe your house. If not, how about mine?" He then thought about how awkward and weird it would be if she came, with his dad eyeing her before scowling at her, wondering why he brought her there. "On, the second, maybe my house won't be the best idea. My dad can be a bit…stern. How about-"

By the time he looked up, the bell rang, everyone was packing their things and getting ready to go, and he was saw he was the only one at the table.

"We meet at the library." He said, apparently now talking only to himself.

At the end of the day, while he packed the usual load of heavy books and binders into his ratty blue Nike backpack he had since freshmen year, a note fell from the top shelf and landed by his feet.

Troy picked it up and the scent of honeysuckle rose and jasmine assaulted his nostrils. Just inhaling the scent, he knew who it was from before he opened it.

_Vicznor's old studio in Huntington street, the last building down on the left. Saturday, at 7A.M_

He looked up, out the window, just in the time to watch her hop onto her bike. Straddling it, she placed the black helmet onto her head, started the engine, and then, turned back to look at him like she could feel his eyes watching her.

Even though they were more than twenty feet away from each other, the effects that came with her gaze were all the same: her eyes deeply locking into his even though they were shield, his whole body tingling and buzzing with such a strong, strange feeling, the way she looking at him as if she could see right through him.

Turning her head forward, she broke the gaze, made the bike roar to life, and rode off without giving him another look back.

By the time Troy realize his vision was spinning because of lack of breath, he took note of his heartbeat, which was beating more rapidly during those three seconds than the time being of his whole existence. He arched his back against the locker, his mind spinning as visions of raven hair, amusing smirks, and bewitching eyes danced in his head and her scent that was assaulting him, twisting and mangling with his mind even more.

"Who the hell is she?" he asked himself.


	5. Chapter 5

**ET Chapter 5: The Dancer and the Photographer**

Gabriella has three passions in her life.

It's not predictable like cheer-leading, shopping, fashion, and all that. Cheer-leading to her was way overrated. She noticed some few cheerleaders really had good moves, but could tell for most it was all about being noticed and popular, something she wasn't into. She was into shopping as much as any girl, but unlike most didn't see the need to buy ripped jeans at a store that cost more than 600 hundred bucks when she can get the same pair for twenty bucks at a secondhand store. As for fashion, well, one look at her someone could immediately tell she wasn't a dolled-up, sparkly Barbie.

Instead hers were more simple and yet something more…at least to her, because they were what made _her_ Gabriella.

The first one would be reading. Funny thing was before she hated reading as much as anyone else because it was such waste of time to her. The fact it was a huge majority of school, which she hated, had something to do with that hatred. Then one day, on a rainy afternoon when she was in fourth grade, she found herself stuck in at the library. Homework done and complete, no ride available to her, she was bored out of her mind with nothing to do. To humor herself, she browsed through the shelves, picked up a copy of _A Little Princess_, and sat down on a comfy beanbag chair in the children's section while she read.

By the time she lifted her head up from the book, the library was close to closing, and people were packing up their things and leaving.

The weird thing: she barely noticed at all. She was so caught up in the book, time seemed to fly by. Instead of just seeing the words, it was like she was seeing a movie or TV show being played in her head. She also felt like she was a character in the story. She had no idea how a book, especially one that's really good, can just take you away. Since that afternoon, her view of reading completely changed. Soon she began reading more frequently, reading more books in a week than she did before in a month, borrowing more than dozens of books from time to time and using her own money to buy copies she really wanted to own, becoming a regular at the school library as well as the public one that had much better stock, going from book-hater to book worm.

Her love for reading was what inspired her love for writing, her second passion. Constantly she was surrounded with story ideas, inspired from the books she read, the movies and TV shows she seen, and the action going on in the city. One day she decided to write those ideas down. Soon she became a writer, written more than hundreds of different stories, and had countless notebooks and notepads filled with stories.

For her third passion, it occurred when she least expected it, almost like it did with reading. It happened when she was seven years old. Things were not going well at home and she needed an escape, so she walked. Nearly all around New York on her own, letting her feet take her wherever they wanted, not a bit afraid because she knew how to handle herself and knew there was much worse things.

Then she came across a small building all the way in the Upper East Side, where she usually stayed away from. It was the dance studio she knew most of her classmates went to after school, and since there was nothing better for her to do, she decided to go inside. It was the sweet, soft music playing that led her all the way to the top floor, where inside magic happened.

Or at least that how it felt like to her. No, there were no fairies flying around, no cute little unicorns cuddling against her, no princesses and princes. It was honestly an ordinary room, nothing special: the walls painted pink and purple, two known girlish colors she usually didn't associate herself with, full-length mirrors taking up the walls on her left and her right, a water cooler in the far corner, and the wooden floors. But there was something very different. The floors gleamed and glistened with sweat that dripped dreams, seeming to be as endless as the sea, and the music, the soft music coming somewhere she couldn't see.

The music did something to her. She heard music plenty of times before, of course, but that day it was different. So soft, so beautiful, it was like a siren calling her, willing her to follow it.

The music made something happen to her. Something came alive, connecting her to the soft music and pulling her towards it. So, she closed her eyes and let the music take her away.

It was a sensation she never experienced before. Like with her reading, it was almost like slipping away to a new world, a better world where nothing else existed but the music and the music alone. The music had some kind of control over her, making her move around, twirling and leaping, bending and stretching, trying to her intercept the sound through her body.

Then it was over. The music stopped and she stilled. The music, the dancing, the sensation both brought her was almost too much to handle. She finally drew a breath, letting it out, and looked over her shoulder when she heard footsteps coming behind her.

A tall woman with dark yet bright red hair tied into a tight bun, pale skin the color of milk, and dressed in a skintight, black leotard emerged from the shadows, applauding her.

She had a dark mole under her mouth; bright red lips almost the same color as her hair, a face so ageless it was hard to guess how old she was. She wasn't classically pretty, but there was something in her that drew people in.

"Usually, I don't tolerate outsiders and have the police deal with them," the woman's accent was Polish, thick and firm. Stern, even.

Gabriella gulped, nervous. The woman then surprised her by placing a gentle hand on her shoulder while squatting down before her.

"Tell me, child, have you taken lessons before?" she asked, her dark violet eyes staring at her intently.

"No."

Then the woman did the strangest thing: she smiled at her. So kindly and warmly, which made her look more striking, it was unlike anything Gabriella ever seen a grownup give to her. "Well, now you are. Welcome to Madame Gorksi's dance Academy."

Soon she was taken into ballet, catching up with the more advance students quickly than anticipated and learning complex moves and routines to dances that took years to know, becoming one of the best and top students. While taking (and mastering) ballet, she also went into jazz, modern dance, hip-hop and step, which she loved, and, of course, Latino dances.

Since that day, she always has been a dancer. She found her calling.

* * *

><p>Funny.<p>

It was actually the brightness of the sun that came through the window that woke her up before the thundering, sleep-killing sound of construction working happening a block away did.

Gabriella swore under her breath, at the noise and at the brightness, squirming around in her bed and shifting her body onto her back, trying to block out the sun's bright rays. Then, quickly, she remembered the chore she had to take care of this morning and found some energy to crawl out of bed.

She made her way to the small bedroom, where she spent fifteen minutes in the shower after she brushed her teeth. The water came down hard, hot and refreshing. She wished she could stay in there longer, but knew Javier would shit a brick if the water bill went up. When she came back to her room, hair wet and body wrapped in a white towel, she trade in the white wife-beater and striped boy-shorts she wore to bed last night for her favorite workout clothes: a cool, soft lavender cut-off tee with a black radio stereo blasting music notes and her favorite pair of black sweats. Tying her black Nike sneakers and her hair into a loose, messy bun, she packed her black tote bag with a towel, her water bottle, cell phone, wallet, and a copy of _This Lullaby_, her eighth favorite book.

Before she left, she decided to check in with her brother. Inside his room, which was bigger compared to hers, he and Anita held tightly onto each other as they slept peacefully in their warm bed and nestled blankets. Javier even had a small smile on his face, wiping away all the stress lines from his still young face, looking so peaceful and happy.

"Aww," Gabriella couldn't resist. She wasn't a mushy, feely type of girl, but it was nice seeing this moment. Then, her eyes glanced down at the floor, where their discarded clothes laid scattered around. Anita's lacey red bra and thong panties were hanging on the doorknob.

_And now not sweet_, she grimaced. Disturbing was more like it. Disgusting, cringe-worthy images of them doing disgusting, cringe-worthy things scarred her mind, moving her body shudder and her stomach churn.

Her brother rolled onto his stomach, to the left side, taking Anita with her and pulling her on top of him. He opened his mouth and released such a loud, sleep-crusher snore it'd wake up half of New Mexico. Maybe even the whole one.

_And now the sweetness has left the building_, she rolled her eyes and left the two lovebirds alone. How Anita can live with that every day, so close by, was something she couldn't and didn't want to understand.

When she entered Paco's room, the smallest room of the three that was almost more like a closet than a room, she smiled while being greeted by a bright smile and eager hands reaching out to her.

"Hi Paco."

His reply was more reaching and a wider smile, laughing while jumping around in his bed.

Gabriella seen plenty of cute babies, but in her opinion, her nephew was the cutest. Small and quite handsome, he was adorable with smooth, olive skin, big brown eyes that had the signature Montez heart-melting affect and often gleamed with a smile, tousles of dark brown hair the shade of rich dark chocolate, and a face so precious it put puppies and other tots to shame.

"Gabi! Gabi! Gabi!" At thirteen months, he was quite the Einstein. He had crawling down, was getting better at walking even though he stumbled a few times, and was beginning to talk. Through his excitement, you could pick the up the slight Spanish accent. Even though he was old enough to start nursery school, Anita full-out refused.

"Why should I let some floozy bimbo watch over my son if she doesn't have the brains to do it? When I can do it during the day, when I'm at home? It's a waste of time and money," was her response to the opinion.

Thinking about, Gabriella could see she could a point. Even if she couldn't see it, there was no point mentioning. Hardly anyone argues against Anita and makes it out alive.

Greeting the eager baby with a warm smile, she lifted him up from the crib and held him in her arms. Paco smile up, his hands touching anywhere and everywhere they can. Playing with her face, brushing her hair with his fingers, all while chuckling and smiling.

"Eres muy valioso, no es cierto?" she murmured in Spanish, tickling his soft tummy and making him laugh more.

A fact about her known by slight few and she'd never tell almost anyone else: she actually likes little kids. Despite her carefree, tough front, which in all truth she's dedicated to and lives as her motto, she had a warm, sweet spot for the little suckers. Always had. Paco was no expectation, but rather the reason why. Holding him in her arms, feeling his warmth and soft skin perfumed with sweet-smelling Baby Johnson and honey and milk, she never felt so peaceful. Peaceful, happy, even a sense of love from the affection in Paco's warm eyes.

_Did she even feel this way when she held us?_ She had to wonder, and then forced herself the thought away, kicking herself for crossing forbidden, unneeded territory.

Paco stopped his laughing and looked up at her, an unhappy expression wiping away all the brightness from his face. He always seemed to know when something was bothering her.

Definitely much quicker and easier than most people.

"I'll be okay, kid," Thirteen months old, he already mastered an expression that was close to disbelief, something she knew no other kid at his age could do. Smiling at him again, she settled him back into his crib, kissed him on the forehead, and as soon the keys to her bike were in her hand she was out of the door.

First things first: she needed food and now. Her stomach was growling. On the way, she stopped at a convenient store, where they sell the best the egg and ham and bacon breakfast sandwiches. She had two of those with a large cup of black coffee to wash it down, the caffeine giving her enough energy to start the morning.

It was until she drove near the outskirts of town, she finally reached the building in Huntington Street. Vicznor's dance studio was the tallest building in the whole block, also noticeable, too, with a huge gaping hole in the ceiling, the entire building painted in dark green and lighter shades of blue. The place used to be pretty busy, until some rich dude decided to build a new, huge mall in the area, but as soon as the place was cleared out, he changed his mind. But by then no else wanted it, so the entire street was pretty much forgotten and deserted.

She discovered it a few weeks ago after she was dragged to Albuquerque. She rode her bike nearly everywhere, ended up here, and it was curiosity that led her inside the building, all the way to the top floor. Just like it did with Madame Gorksi's dance academy almost eleven years ago. It was secluded, quiet, and she loved it almost instantly.

At the top floor, it was pretty much like any other dance room. Good space, wall-length mirrors, a water fountain with two jogs she regularly refilled whenever she came here, the smooth wooden floors that gleamed and made its' own music with every step she took. There was also an old gray couch that was pretty comfortable by the far right side, near the water fountain, along with a gray table and chair, where she laid her bag.

The gaping hole was right in the middle of the room, allowing sunshine in and the cool air kissing against her, whistling through her hair. She breathed it all in for a moment, the feeling of being in a dance room with such light and cool air, before she let it out slowly.

She started out doing warm-ups, a must every dance needs to do if she wishes to avoid cramps. She did complex and basic yoga poses that set off the familiar burn in her body, shot her leg up each time she twirled as she spin some spins, and finished off with back flips to really get her body going.

Grabbing her iPod and speakers out, she flipped through it till she found the one she wanted, set it up, and let the music start.

_Like a gift from the heavens, it was easy to tell,  
>It was love from above, that could save me from hell,<br>She had fire in her soul it was easy to see,  
>how the devil himself could be pulled out of me,<br>There were drums in the air as she started to dance,  
>Every soul in the room keeping time with there hands,<br>And we sang..._

Gabriella closed her eyes and titled her head back slightly, listening.

It was three easy gestures that made everything slip away as the dancer inside came to life, taking control and her rightful stage once more.

* * *

><p>Here's a secret about Troy very few, with the expectation of his closest friends, knew about him.<p>

He loved photography.

He loved pictures.

But not the digital ones you can get with a digital camera or a phone. Those were flat, empty almost to him. The ones he really loved was the ones you used with real camera that had film, spent hours in a dark room developing, and seeing your work come to life when it was done.

That was the kind of pictures he loved.

He's been into photography since he was five, when he was given his first camera as a birthday present from Mike, who inspired him to get into the hobby since he seemed to be taken in by pictures.

Not only pictures, but moments. Moments that was extraordinary hidden behind the ordinary. Moments unnoticeable but also unforgettable. Moments that was simply captivating

He taken more than hundred, close to maybe a thousand, pictures, but very few, the ones that were really good and he was proud of, ever make it to be framed on his shelves while most went into the albums. .He had his own darkroom next door to his room, where he usually spent most of his time there when he wasn't doing homework or studying, practice, being with his dad and avoiding him.

People, namely his dad, believe because he was played and was amazing at basketball and was a great captain basketball was both a calming drug as well as a passion. They had no idea how wrong as a passion. They had no idea how wrong they were. Basketball wasn't a passion; it was a life-sucker. It wasn't something that calmed him; it gave him dangerous adrenaline that was anything but good. It wasn't fun and a load-off; it was a pain in the ass that served as a cruel punishment as well as a dark reminder.

Photography was the only thing that calmed him down. Holding the camera in his hands gave him such peace, filling him with a feeling he never felt before in a long time. Spending time in the dark room, getting away from it all, and watching his pictures developed and come to life was the best accomplishment he ever succeeded in.

His mom thought it was a cute hobby. That was only because she was fond of photographers who featured ads of her makeup line in the magazines. His dad thought (and also prayed) it was a simple phase he was going through.

"Troy!" Speak of the devil. No knock, no asking. His dad just barged into his dark room like it was nothing. Despite a hundred times his son told him sudden brightness could ruin his pictures.

"Dad, can you please close the door?" Troy said, thinking, _For God's sake_. Make that one hundred and one. As he was multitasking with the stop bath and hanging up new photos, he could feel his dad's dark, cold eyes burning holes into the back of his head.

"It's almost six-thirty. You're two hours late," he announced. Troy turned back to him, confused, and at the look the frown lines in his dad's face deepened. "Your training."

_Oh shit!_ Troy nearly dropped his developer jar.

He forgotten his training was now a six-day routine, thanks to his slippery tongue. He came to his darkroom around two in the morning when he couldn't sleep and time flew by. He had to meet Gabriella in half an hour.

Only problem was he hasn't exactly mentiioned it to his dad.

The simplest thing to do would be to tell his dad he had to meet his partner for a project. It was the school after all, so he, being one to worry so much about college and the expanses, would understand. Except, of course, for two problems: 1). Missing training would like spitting in his dad's face and 2). If he mentioned who his partner was, he was screwed.

_I could always lie_, he thought. That was another simple solution, one far less painful than the first opinion. You were human if you had to lie from time to time. Except lying has never been his best virtue.

_Dear God help me_. Judging by frostbite irritation in his dad's eyes, he had five seconds to say something fast or get smacked. "I can't, Dad. At least not today."

His dad stared at him, dumbstruck. Like Troy spoke a language he couldn't understand or sprouted another head on his shoulder. Then, quickly, confusion slipped away as anger came in, dark and dangerous. That alone foreshadowed a very bad sign. "_What do you mean you can't?_"

"I…" _For God's sake_, _Bolton_, his annoying conscious yelled out as he began cowering away from his dad. _Man up! _Sighing, he took in a deep breath and prepared himself for the worst, praying God will be at his side. "I have to meet my partner for a project in Mr. Cummings class."

That cooled off his dad's anger for a moment, so he was almost safe. Till his dad raised his left brow, suspicion in his eyes, and moved closer to him. "Who is it?"

_Fate hates me_, the nervous Bolton declared. Out of all questions to ask, his dad had to ask the one he dreaded to answer. "Um…you wouldn't know her," Suddenly the temperature in the room was growing. Troy could feel sweat dripping on his forehead. He fought the urge to cool himself down, knowing it'd only make him look more suspicious, which was something he didn't need. "She's kind of new."

"Try me." His dad smiled, eyeing his son's discomfort with satisfaction like there was nothing that made his day any sweeter.

There was no way getting out of this, so the only thing to do was the come out with it. "Gabriella Montez."

For a moment his dad stared at him in silence. Silence that was starting to scare Troy the longer it went on. There were no smirks, no cold eyes, just standing there looking at him.

It was that moment Troy hoped (and also prayed) maybe, just maybe his dad hadn't heard of the infamous Gabriella Montez. East High was a big school with too many students and so many teachers; it was hard for them to track on everyone. There could be a possibly, a small one but one Troy hoped for, Jack didn't hear about the bold stunt she pulled on Darbus in Homeroom. Maybe he didn't hear the countless rumors swirling about her.

The next moment, though, that hope died so young at the sight of the dark, monstrous fury in his dad's eyes, which were more enraged than Troy's ever seen them, and the darkest, most disguised.

"_Gabriella Montez_." he said the name with such coldness laced with venom in his calm voice, which only made Troy tenser.

_Well some much for hope_, Troy thought.

"You're telling me you allowed yourself to be paired with that girl?" Jack sneered, hissing like a snake.

"Well not actually," Troy tried laughing nervously, but quickly stopped as he noticed the tension thickening in the room. "It's actually a funny story. Hilarious-"

His dad silenced him by grabbing a handful of his hair, tugging at it _hard_, nearly ripping it from his skull. Ignoring Troy's pained pleas, Jack pulled Troy close to him and growled "Then why the fuck aren't I laughing?"

With that said, Jack thrown him against the wall. Troy's head smacked against the edge of the cabinet, erupting explosions of pain. His elbow hit the developer jar, knocking it into the tray, causing it to overflow and ruining his pictures.

Before Troy could think or even breathe, a hard fist slammed against jaw, knocking him down to the ground. As he struggled to get back up, his dad got to him first, hitting him again in the head before dragging him by his hair out of the room and tossing him onto the floor in his room. Through the blackness, he heard his dad's sneer of disgust and a key set into the lock behind him. Troy wasn't sure how long he laid sprawl on the ground, his head throbbing excruciatingly, but did know it'd take nearly forever for the pain to lessen from excruciatingly to unbearable.

He finally lifted himself up, doing so slowly and carefully, and went over to the door. It was locked. He tried over and over, but the damn door wouldn't budge. He was trapped inside like some kind of Disney princess.

"I can't believe this!" he shouted. A part of him hoped his dad could hear it while the other feared of being a dead man. He realized all too soon his dad was gone, probably his office drinking himself to a coma as usual.

Troy couldn't believe this. He could not _fucking_ believe this! He knew his dad would react, but not this way. Despite Gabriella's reputation, there was no reason for his dad to flip out like that. The girl couldn't be _that_ bad.

Troy looked up at the clock. According to time, he had less than an hour to get to Huntington Street, which was a forty-five minute drive from here. But with the door locked, he had no way of getting there.

Unless…

Troy walked over to the window, where he eyed the tall, sturdy oak tree that's been right across his window for years. At the bottom of the tree was his 2010 Audi A5 Coupe, a seventeenth birthday present from dear Mom.

It was bold, completely bold, and unlike him, but so tempting. So easy.

_No, no, no, no, no! __I put a strong, strong emphasize on the no_, screamed his obedience side. _Again, I put a VERY strong emphasize on the no._ _If Dad finds out you snuck out, this morning greeting is going to look like a trip to the circus. You will be a dead man, Bolton. A DEAD MAN. _

His obedient side had a really strong point. A point too hard to argue against and ignore.

_And what about the project, _reminded his other side. It was the same other half that him stay and talk to Gabriella in the first place. _The project count as a huge for not only this semester's grade, but also as the year's final. Your chances of getting into U of A depend on it._

Dear God. That one had a good point, too.

Troy looked back at the locked behind him and the tree, where his car was parked right near it, deciding.

_What's it gonna be Bolton? _

* * *

><p>During the ride, Troy's nerves were overdrive.<p>

It's no big deal. It shouldn't be a big deal. It wasn't like he was the first teenager to sneak out the house. God knows how many times Chad snuck out of his for partying and meeting Taylor for a midnight hookup. And it was for a good cause. It was for school. His grade depended on it.

His nerves were on triple overdrive, making him jumpy and anxious, as if he drank more than five cups of strong espresso coffee from Starbucks. He could feel sweat dampening his shirt while his heart was pounding loudly as well as racing.

What's the big deal? Troy shouldn't be acting not feeling this way. He was only meeting his partner to work on a project, that and nothing more.

So why the hell was sweat dripping on his forehead?

Nerves, he decided. Just nerves. That and the fact he was escaping from his house like some kind of convicted criminal.

_Not to mention meeting with the hottest girl to ever hit East High_, piqued (unhelpfully) his strange half that was beginning to sound more and more like an evil side.

"Shut up!" he said, frustrated.

Parking his car in front of the building, where he saw the familiar motorcycle parked by the side, he got the car and headed inside, following the loud music thumping through the walls to the very of the building.

Troy wasn't sure what to expect when he went inside. Maybe to find Gabriella smoking a joint, doing crack, or having an earlier beer.

Coming inside, he noticed two things.

First was the music. Given Gabriella's personality, he expected maybe thrashing, head-pounding rock. Maybe some Lady Gaga. Instead, from the sound of the song, she was playing one by the lead singer of Nickelback.

_Ay oh ay oh ay oh ay,  
>And the voices bang like the angels sing,<br>We're singing...  
>Ay oh ay oh ay oh ay,<br>And we danced on into the night,  
>Ay oh ay oh,<br>Ay oh ay oh,  
>And we danced on into the night,<br>Ay oh ay oh,  
>Ay oh ay oh,<br>And we danced on into the night,_

Second was the way she was dancing.

Not grinding or shaking her body senselessly, but actually dancing. He was no expert, but the way she was doing he could tell she was good.

_Really good_, he thought, watching her from the doorway.

_Like a gift from the heavens, it was easy to tell,  
>It was love from above, that could save me from hell,<br>She had fire in her soul it was easy to see,  
>how the devil himself could be pulled out of me,<br>There were drums in the air as she started to dance,  
>Every soul in the room keeping time with there hands,<br>And we sang..._

Every move looked impossible for one to do, yet she made it look completely easy. She was fluid and graceful, each move and step precise, moving as if she were alive.

_Ay oh ay oh ay oh ay,  
>And the voices bang like the angels sing,<br>We're singing...  
>Ay oh ay oh ay oh ay,<br>And we danced on into the night,  
>Ay oh ay oh,<br>Ay oh ay oh,  
>And we danced on into the night,<br>(And the voices bang like the angels sing),  
>Ay oh ay oh,<br>Ay oh ay oh,  
>And we danced on into the night,<br>Ay oh ay oh ay oh ay,  
>(Ay oh ay oh),<br>Ay oh ay oh ay oh ay,  
>(Ay oh ay oh),<br>Singing ay oh ay oh ay oh ay,  
>(Ay oh ay oh),<br>And we danced on into the night..._

With a sweep of her left leg, she spun around and around, her leg never touching the ground and looking like she was gliding, before she was down on her knees, head titled and eyes closed.

"Wow." He breathed. It was the only word he could use to describe what he seen.

Looking over her shoulder, she eyed him. A light blue sleeveless shirt, darker blue shaggier basketball shorts, and expensive Jordans. Her eyes skimmed over his face, where he knew on his right temple was a swollen bruise.

It was strange to Troy how she eyed for a moment, then completely skimmed over and made no comment. Either she was concerning his feelings and keeping quiet or she honestly couldn't care either way.

Gabriella titled her upper body back until her legs were slowly up while she stood on her hands. Then, with a deep breath, she did a back flip flawlessly and was back on her feet.

"Didn't think you'd show up, pup?" she commented.

"Why do you call me that?"

"Because I can." She missed the irritated glare he shot her as she walked over to her iPod, stopping the music before it replayed again, switching it to a much softer, instrumental one.

"Fine then. You want to call me a name, then I'll call you one back," Turning around, she stared at him, challenging him. Bitch was out, because almost every girl in school calls her that. Slut was a bit too harsh; because there was no proof she was _that_ easy. He went with the first one that came to his head, one he regretted saying as soon as he said it. "Montez."

"Wow." She nodded her head, widening her eyes a bit for a better effect. "Original."

Troy turned his head away, so she wouldn't see him blushing. He turned back, sure when the blush was gone, to see her standing in the middle of the dance floor, snapping her fingers and gesturing him to come.

"Okay," she said as he obliged. "Tango, salsa, and the pasadoble are all types of Latino dances used in _Carmen_. We'll be doing a mix of all forms for Latino dances."

"Why are we dancing?" Troy asked.

Gabriella sighed heavily, as if this was common knowledge he was suppose to know. Rolling her eyes, she placed her hands on her hips and explained "Cummings said we have to be original. Doing a PowerPoint or so poster will get us a solid C. C+, if the man is feeling generous. Dancing, like I said, before is a huge element in _Carmen_. Portraying the final dance scene between Carmen and Don Jose before he kills her will blow them away."

Troy stared at her, dumbstruck. It was original, original and brilliant. The exact thing Cummings was looking for. Maybe the rumors about her being smart weren't too far-fetched after all.

"We'll be starting with the tango. It can be both easy and difficult to learn, all depending on the teacher and student."

"Alright. Let's dance." Troy tried fixing his body into a pose he seen tons of dancers on TV. Standing on tips of his toes, back arched slightly, and arms over his head.

Only problem was he looked completely stiff.

One look at his off-balance, stiff form made Gabriella say this "First off, we're doing dancing, not figure-skating. Second, I'm going to spare what I'm thinking right now at the moment."

Sighing, he relaxed himself.

"Like I said, Bolton, tango can be both easy and difficult. All depending on the teacher and the student. Before we do tango, we need to start with the basics. That would be the waltz."

"The waltz?" Troy repeated.

Gabriella waved away his confusion. "It's a piece of cake."

To start them off, Troy needed to take her hand. He was hesitant, but compelled. At the first touch between them, her small hand held in his larger one, a spark went off almost immediately. It was like a prick of electricity, but strong like lightening almost.

Troy was baffled. He almost jumped at the spark and for the longest time couldn't speak. The feel, the touch, it was all too…wow. He didn't realize he was staring at the ground, at his feet, until he heard Gabriella calling his name, bringing his attention back to her.

While he was freaking out about what was happening, she was the way she's always been: calm. Calm, cool, unmoved at all as if nothing really did happen. Looking at her and feeling silly for worrying so much, he almost believe that, but then he saw her eyes said something different.

They were darker but at the same time light as a gleam sparked through them. They were unreadable yet hypnotizing and intense, pulling him in while making him unable to remember his own name.

"Now put your arm around my waist." Her voice was calm.

His arm was already moving before he had any say, wrapping itself around her slim wait, feeling her skin that was so soft and warm. The shock he felt before when they were touching came back again, in the firm of stronger tingles shaking inside him as something was going off between them.

Behind them, the music started. A soft, calming flute played a tune almost similar to birds' singing, followed by a string of violins.

"Do you hear that?" Gabriella murmured. The calming tone was still there in her voice and made him even more tense and nervous.

He nodded slowly, his heart beating faster and faster each second. She continued, saying "The music. Listen to it. To the sound, the beat, the melody. Listen to it with your instinct instead of with your head."

Troy nodded and closed his eyes. He felt silly doing this, even though he felt like it would be better, but soon enough something appeared. He wasn't sure if it was the music or something else, but did felt-_felt_ instead of known-something was there.

With his eyes closed, he wasn't sure, but it seemed like Gabriella nodded her head and sounded almost pleased. "Now open your eyes, pup."

Again, he obliged to her request, but did so slowly. Not that it made any difference. Seeing them intense and radiant, something inside him tightened while something else triggered inside, sending chills and tingles up and down his spine.

"Keep them on me."

_Remember to breath, remember to breath, remember to breath_, he chanted to himself.

She slipped her arm around his neck, causing red to color his cheeks and making him forget his inner chant by her touch. She moved their bodies closer together, with only little space separating them, all while keeping her eyes on him.

With her hair gleaming in the sunlight, bits of dark chocolate brown appearing in the raven mane, mocha eyes smoldering almost like a dark fire, beauty all natural without a hint of makeup yet absolutely unbelievable, she didn't resemble any ordinary girl.

Instead she was something else.

Something different.

Something cosmic.

Something not from this ordinary, simple, everyday life and world he was used to being in.

She was…ET.

"And now let go." She said.

Then they started to dance.

.


	6. Chapter 6

**ET Chapter 6: Lost in Mind or in Heart**

Gabriella had no idea what to expect when she danced with Troy. As a dancer, she had been paired with innumerable partners over the years both on and off stage. There were some were up to or closer to her level, able to keep up with her. There were some who despite years of trying really couldn't get their feet into the rhythm of the music. Then, there were some who couldn't tell their left foot from their right.

Since she came to Albuquerque, there had been four partners she danced with. There was Paco, whom she lifted into her arms and spin around the room with, the two of them laughing while getting sick from all the spinning. Anita, whom, even though she was a fierce Latin dancer, she danced like a manic with, the two of them laughing at their horrible moves. Javier whenever they were in a bonding moment and let themselves go in the music. And, of course, Rob, whose flawless skills and balanced rhythm matched her own.

With pup, it was hard how he should be categorized as a dancer.

Surprisingly, he wasn't a clueless manic who moved and jumped around like he was having a heart attack. Or kept tripping and stepping on her toes. That honestly was what she was expecting, because she was one to expect the worse.

But Bolton really surprised her.

Gabriella wasn't going to go stretch the truth and say he was a Derek Hough in the making. That would be the understatement of the year. Paco could dance circle around him and he was only thirteen months old. But she was also wouldn't say he was the worst dancer in history. He thankfully knew his left from his right and had some rhythm in him. Those were the pros.

Yet with every pros, there were cons. For example, he may not have tripped every single time, but did a couple of times. He was so stiff; he could be mistaken for a corpse. And there was the also the fact he _could not relax_.

"Okay, let's take a quick break." said Gabriella. They've practicing and re-practicing from seven to noon. Five hours later, Troy's dancing was not extremely more awful as they were before. Before Troy was deadweight who thought moving his left foot in and shaking it all about was dancing. Now, well, he was getting to get the hang of moving his feet.

Gabriella pulled away from Troy, went over to her bag, and pulled out her water bottle. She pressed the thankfully ice-cold water to her forehead, brushing it against her head slowly, and took a long gulp of her water.

"A little help here?"

It was the irritated, tired voice puffing out short breaths between words that made her turn around. She smirked at the blue eyes scowling at her while the rest of him was too tired and busy sweating to do anything more. "Safe to say, pup, you're out of your element."

Troy could only manage propping his upper body up, saying a sarcastic "Ya think?" between his panting breaths before falling back onto the ground. Out of his mind exhausted, his body aching in pain and dripping in sweat, drool leaking from his slightly opened lips, he collapsed onto the floor the second Gabriella went to get water. He wasn't sure if his body even felt the fall. It was too busy feeling the pain five hours of dancing caused.

_I knew it was going to be difficult and painful_, he thought. _But this, this is just fucking ridiculous. Cruel is more like it. _

Suddenly a boring-ass but completely safe PowerPoint or a poster was looking better and better to him.

As if she could read his mind, Gabriella kneeled before him, eyed his sweaty and worn out self, and shook her head. "I may not be Gossip Girl, but I do know things about you, pup. The focused, determined straight-A nerdy jock. Accepts all challenges thrown at him. Never backs down. I don't expect you to throw in the towel just yet."

She helped him up and he pulled away quickly, before the strange spark could burn him again. When they were dancing together, their bodies pressing against each other tightly, the spark grew into multiple sparks that grew stronger and stronger until it like some sort of barrier surrounding them.

"I'm not-I'm just…" The more she stared at him, the more he stammered. What was it about her that made him unable to remember how to finish a complete sentence? Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck. "Why don't we just do the tango already and be done with it?"

"Sure. And while we're at it, why not let a new medical intern do open-heart surgery for his first day?" Troy gave her a frosted glare, but it was one that was wasted on Gabriella. "You can't immediately jump into something big without being familiar with the basics. That's what Madame Gorski use to say all the time."

Once again, Troy was beginning to see there were some brains attached to this mysterious beauty. He wondered who this Madame Gorski person was anyway, but knew it wasn't the time to start asking questions. Even if he asked, he knew Gabriella would pretend he didn't say anything at all.

"Blame it on the nerves." he said a heartbeat later. "I wasn't a dancer to being with and I doubt I'll be one in the future. I just…don't want you to feel like you're wasting your time with me."

When Gabriella looked at him again, he made out the small curve on the left corner of her lip. It wasn't exactly a smile, but the closest thing to one. "It's not like I have a shit-load of things to do Saturday morning besides sleep. And that I can do in the afternoons," The words settled between them as the silence came again. Then she added with a shrug "Truth be told, pup, you're not the worst dancer I've been paired with it."

Troy stared at her, unsure what to make of it. For a moment he thought she was only saying to spare his feelings, but saw the deep sincere in her eyes. Besides she didn't come off as one to sugar up the truth. Still, Miss Sass Montez actually saying that wasn't an insult was a shocker.

"Then again, you're also far from being a good dancer. You still have a _long _way to go."

Now she sounded like the Montez he was getting used to. Troy rolled his eyes half-heartedly, although there was a small half smile on his face he couldn't control. "So again?"

"Again." she confirmed with a nod. But there was that fleeting smile that danced across her face, brightening to the fullest for a moment, and vanished too soon.

Gabriella told him time after time to listen to the music and relax, for God's sake. The listening wasn't so difficult once he got the hang of it. It was the relaxing part he couldn't do. Being so close to her, being swarmed by her scent of jasmine and honeysuckle, he was amazed he could actually move his body and manage to breath.

Barely.

This time he tried with all his might to relax by blocking everything out. The sunshine, the cool air, and the fact their bodies seem to fit perfectly together, her scent. And amazingly it worked.

Troy held Gabriella's hand in one hand and placed his other hand around her waist. She wrapped one arm around his neck while her other hand was in his. Her fingers brushed lightly against his bare skin, attracting the sparks that burned him there. Trying to fight it and focusing on relaxing, he led them through the waltz again for the seventy-third time.

Forward, side, close. Forward, side, close. He was starting to get into it. Not exactly full-out speculator at it, but he did manage to move without being too hard or too stiff. By the small gleam in Gabriella's eyes, he could tell she was pleased.

He was getting it. He was actually getting it. Maybe dancing wasn't so horrible after all. Maybe it was okay. Maybe fun. Maybe even-

"Argh!" His left foot took a step back instead of forward. Troy tried to fix it, but he turned too quickly and fell to the ground, taking Gabriella with him. She was lying underneath not saying a word, but he could hear the anger and annoyance firing inside her.

When Troy slowly lifted his head up from shoulder blade, where his face landed during the fall and where her strange tattoo was, Gabriella's first reaction was to punch him. Hand balled into a tight fist and ready to start swinging, she stopped short as she looked into his eyes. Those deep blue eyes that was passionate in their own way but very vulnerable, almost as vulnerable as that of a puppy's. She never saw a boy so ashamed and innocent like he did that moment. Any other guy would have made it look so weird, but not Bolton.

She wasn't sure what to make of it.

She wanted to punch him. Troy was sure of that the moment his eyes look into those dark ones that were cold and hard. Then, suddenly, something came over her, disintegrating her anger bit by bit until it was gone from sight completely. They were almost back to being their cold, unmoving self, but there was something new in them, something he seen only very few times in her eyes that beckoned him.

Troy opened his mouth to say something, but Gabriella shook her head before a word could be said. His eyes were speaking to her the exact way hers were telling him something, pulling them closer and closer to each other so they could read it better. Closer and closer to their lips that were beginning to slightly part.

_They say, be afraid  
>You're not like the others<br>Futuristic lover  
>Different DNA<br>They don't understand you_

_You're from a whole 'nother world_  
><em>A different dimension<em>  
><em>You open my eyes<em>  
><em>And I'm ready to go<em>  
><em>Lead me into the light<em>

_Kiss me, kiss me_  
><em>Infect me with your love and<em>  
><em>Fill me with your poison<em>

_Take me, take me_  
><em>Wanna be a victim<em>  
><em>Ready for abduction<em>

_Boy, you're an alien_  
><em>Your touch so foreign<em>  
><em>It's supernatural<em>  
><em>Extraterrestrial<em>

Hearing the ring tone snapped them out of the trance, the spell broken. Troy looked into Gabriella's eyes again, to see that thing he saw before, but it was gone completely.

"You can get off me now, pup." she said calmly.

Nodding quickly and stupidly, he realized he was still on top of her and got off. Quickly, he rolled off her and watched her walk over to her bag, getting out a cherry red flip phone.

"You got me. Go," she said. She listened to the person on the other line before she started scowling. From where he was sitting, he heard shrieking. It sounded like a baby crying.

"The way you were fucking, I figured you were too busy to give a shit. Oh really?" she raised her eyebrow, looking like she was getting madder as her voice rose. "You know what? Fuck you! Mierda vete a la mierda! Mierda joder! Hijo de puta cabrón!"

She ended the call with a "Lo que sea. Vete a la mierda!" before she hanged up. She looked down at the phone angrily, like she wished she could throw it against the wall, possibly picturing whoever got her so mad. She settled with squeezing it tightly in her clenched fist and putting it back in her bag.

Troy knew watching and hearing someone's private conversation was wrong. He lost count how many times he threw pillows or paper balls at his friends for listening in on his calls. But seeing her looking so upset really struck him, hitting home.

"Everything ok?"

"Fine," Her back was to him, her voice calm. Too calm. She took in a deep breath, but didn't turn around. "Just the usual shit at home."

That was something he was all too familiar with. "Story of my life."

She looked over her shoulder at him, a dark eyebrow arched questioningly. It must have been a shock learning East High's primo boy has issues of his own.

After that revelation was out, thanks to slip of tongue, he braced himself for questions. What was going on? Was he okay? Was there anything she could do to help him? But Gabriella didn't ask questions. She didn't say anything at all and nodded once, as if they were both agreeing life sucks sometimes.

"So, was that your dad?" She didn't want to talk about it. Troy knew because he was in that situation plenty of times beofre, but something in him felt like he had to say it. Maybe it was because this was the first time he saw another emotion besides boredom in Gabriella. Maybe it was because he was one of those guys who couldn't move on from a moment when someone else was upset. Or maybe it was because this was the first time someone other than him had family issues.

Her response was a snort he took as a no

"Your mom then?" he tried.

If she found first question silly, she found this one amusing. Letting out a breath of laughter that was sarcastic and cold, she shook her head and finally turned back to him. "It's someone who likes putting his head up his ass."

_Okay_, thought Troy, arching his eyebrow slightly. She didn't want to answer the question and he didn't push her any further.

They both decided that coming here every Saturday at seven was the perfect solution for practicing their project. Troy knew he was going to get shit (and hits) for missing his training, but at the moment couldn't care less if his dad thought less of him. It wasn't like Jack didn't already.

Soon after Troy walked Gabriella to her bike and watched her ride off after she saluted him a goodbye wave, he was baffled.

If her phone hadn't gone off, they would have moved closer to each other. They probably would've been kissing. They were so close to each other, it would only take a breath for their lips to touch.

_Heat_, he thought. The heat from the bright sun and all that dancing must have messed up his head. He was officially going crazy because it was just heat of something. Heat of the moment actually.

Even if he was interested in having a girlfriend, Gabriella, despite being beautiful, wasn't his type. And he knew he definely wasn't what she had in mind for her ideal guy.

So that's that.

On his way to the library, where he planned to get some studying done, there was something his mind couldn't wrap around.

If it meant nothing to him at all, then why couldn't he forget about it?

Why couldn't he stop thinking about what would have happened if her phone hadn't gone off?

**AN: tHANKS for reading ET and I'm glad you like it. Also thanks to the reviwers who gave me amazing ideas that helped make thsi chapter. Have any ideas/suggestions that should happen next? Let me know. I'd love to hear them. **

**You rock. Thanks.**


	7. Chapter 7

**ET Chapter 7: No Better Cure than Shopping**

_She knew they were waiting for them outside. _

_She could feel it. Their hatred, particularly her father's, white-rage and seeping through the solid wooden walls. She pictured dozens and dozens of them surrounding the entire place, weapons ready at hand, waiting patiently. _

_Her heartbeat was thundering, pounding so loudly and hard it shocked her it didn't burst out yet. She took in silent breaths and tip-toed to the center of the room, where she thought it would be much safer. She realized all too soon she was being foolish, being so quiet when they already knew they were inside, and let out a breath in a whimper. _

_She cursed herself for being so foolish. Out all the areas and lands her terribly wealthy and terribly cold father owe, she thought their lake cottage they haven't come to in two summers was the last place he looked for her. _

_Clearly she was wrong. _

"_They here, aren't they?" She turned her head to look over at him. The lantern he held over his head brightened the gold in his bright auburn hair. His rich, thick French accent calm and soothing. _

_She looked into those beautiful, unique soft violet eyes that had her under his spell the first time she ever looked into them. Those beautiful eyes belonging to the man she loved oh, so much. She nodded once, a dry sob threatening to come out. _

"_You have less than thirty seconds to come out before we come in!" yelled the loud, authority voice. Recognizing the harsh tone in the British accent, she knew it was her father, Lord Vander Mor. _

_He sounded so angry, so enraged, she was shaking. Terrified about the countless possibilities he would do to her-or worse, what he'll do to him. _

_Sensing her thoughts, he pulled her into his chest and held her tight, kissing her forehead as he brushed back her former long hair she cut short so she wouldn't be recognized._

_He was a wanted criminal, she a high noble's profitable daughter. He found guilty of countless crimes and sentenced for hanging, she bid off to the best suitor with the richest background to settle her father's massive debts. They believed running away together would solve all their problems, freeing them from the bounds keeping them apart and finally able to be together. _

_They were foolish to hope. Her father was not one to give up so easily, calling every guard and every policeman to find her and to have his head. Along with the countless policemen, were her beloved's old friends turned enemies and blood-hungry enemies who wanted to murder him for leaving them in the dust while he got away with all the money. _

"_I have two last requests." he murmured, smiling as beautiful violet met concerned hazel brown. _

"_Anything."_

_A kiss was the first one he wanted, one she was all too happy to give. Feeling his strong arms around her and his soft lips upon hers, she melted away into pure heaven while desire raged and burned inside her, wanting more and more. It was kisses like these, so passionate and loving, that led to heated, intense actions that were seen as improper and sinful, but ones she wouldn't trade for anything in the world. _

"_Ten seconds!" Even her father's yells that used to chill fear inside her couldn't break this moment, couldn't ruin this connection between them. _

"_And second," Kissing the corner of her mouth before pecking her fully on the lips quickly, he drew his lips away by a fraction and held her beautiful face in one hand, his fingers caressing her soft cheek and smiling as she leaned into his palm. "Hold onto me and close your eyes."_

_He let the lantern drop with a heavy clang. _

_She barely had time to take in a breath or say she loved him before the fire spread and consumed them. _

Gabriella woke up with a slight start, her mind whirling.

Her first reaction was to grab a pen and paper, so she could write down her idea before it slipped away. That was both one advantage and disadvantage about writing: ideas can come right at you randomly but will vanish all too soon before you can grasp it.

Opening the nightstand's top drawer, she was puzzled to discover packs and packs of condoms along with less than several packs of cigarettes, a lighter, and some change instead of her packs of pens and latest blue-covered composition notebook that was her new journal. She turned back, and, seeing Rob next to her and fast asleep, feeling their nude bodies close together under the green and blue plaid flannel blanket, it dawned to her she wasn't in her apartment.

_Or should I say Javier's apartment?_ She questioned and soon a scowl darkened her face, remembering the reason why she was in Rob's apartment.

Javier, being such a hothead 99% of the time, completely ruined her Saturday. He was pissed she didn't leave a note because he woke up, thought only God knows what, and completely freaked out when he called her.

Acting like a-hole, insulting her, making her feel like shit. Gabriella received a lifetime of that treatment from one Montez. She sure as hell didn't need it again from another.

She didn't want to go home. She didn't want to hang around Pup, who probably suspected something and want to talk about it. She could have stayed dancing at Vicznor's, but Javier killed that for her. The library wouldn't start opening on Saturdays until next week, so that was out. With only ten bucks in her pocket, there wasn't much she could, so she turned up at the one place where she could hang out and chill: Rob's.

One of thing she loved about her best friend was he was one known for going with the flow. All game for hanging back, and not getting into anyone's business unless they were willing to open up. That was just what she needed.

His apartment wasn't all that much. Almost like Javi's, but twice as small with the walls painted in light and dark colors shades of white, the carpets emerald green and soft. There was some furniture from the soft brown couch and navy blue recliner and a small black coffee table piled with college textbooks, notebooks and binders, and his laptop and a black TV in front of the couch. The living room was morphed in with the bedroom, with the furniture in the center of the room while his bedroom was behind. By "bedroom", she meant his king-size bed by the right side with a small nightstand and shelves overhead. The bathroom, tiny and light blue, was down the corner by the left, and the kitchen was barely big enough for the fridge, much less a table.

One look at her when he saw her standing outside, her lips smiling while her eyes were hollow, he dropped any plan or date he was planning do and invited her in.

They watched tons on DVDs on his bootleg DVD player, blasted music with her iPod speakers and danced around, ordered tons of pizzas from Domino's and Papa Gino's and stuffed their faces till their stomachs were sure to burst. Then things got interesting when Rob got out a bag of good pot he bought from his college friend, Tim, a dealer that had the goods at a good price, which was strong stuff and affected them almost instantly. Getting high, they spilt an ice-cold Bud light six-pack and ended up in bed, where they got busy having very hot and nice sex.

Something told her through their drunk and stoned hookup, they fucked more than once.

Through her still half-stoned, half-dazed mind, she managed to untangle herself from Rob's oddly strong grip and get up. On slow, steady feet, she managed to find her scattered clothes and get herself dressed. Except she couldn't find her bra.

Even with her mind still exhausted and buzzed, there was no way she was leaving without her bra. She had some class.

Couch? Wasn't there. Floor? No. In the bed? Seeing as much as she could, with Rob still on it, that was a negative. _What the hell did he do with it?_ She thought, a bit pissed. For all she knew, it was probably almost five in the morning and she was searching around for her fucking bra. _Eat it!_

She finally found it. Hanging off the hook on the shelf over the bed, slightly swinging back and forth. As it were mocking her.

"You've got to be kidding me." she murmured, retrieving it. She pulled off her top and strapped on her bra before pulling her top back on. She glanced at the alarm, the time reading it was a quarter to three in the morning. Shit!

As she slipped on her sneakers and pulled her messy, unruly hair into a loose bun, she snuck a peek at Rob over her shoulder. Her movements became slower and slower till she stood in place and stared at him while he slept on. There was something about the way he was sleeping, looking so peaceful, almost innocent-like that got to her. It reminded her of Paco when the little cutie rests, but mostly it reminded her of her brother. Especially when they were kids, huddled together in bed, his face looking more like his own, innocent age than more mature, almost grownup-like mask hr wore during the day. She opened her eyes sometimes in the middle of the night and saw his face, amazed that despite his façade, he was still young and vulnerable like she was.

She remembered countless times Javier taking her hand, pulling her away from the chaos that always went from horribly worse to downright horrifying, into their room. After he locked the door, they crawled into bed, which was barely big enough to fit two kids, pulling the heavy and soft flannel covers over their heads. She could still hear the chaos outside, the yells and insults and smacking and crashing, but they were muffled and distant like they were miles away. That was the way things always were inside their "tent", as Javier liked to call it.

That was the only was the only time she ever believed in magic. In bed, with the covers over the head and being propped up by the headboard, hands tightly holding onto each other, it was like they were a magical tent or shield where nothing could get to them.

"It's gonna be okay, Ella," Javi would whisper to her in their tent, whenever she was silent but scared (which was often) or crying hysterically (which was rarely). He squeezed her hand, which she responded to with an extra squeeze. "It's you and me against the world. Always. Okay."

"Okay." she murmured, scared but fully convinced. As long as Javi was by her side, everything was okay.

Gabriella shook her head, breaking the flashback. It happened so long ago, feeling more like a few millenniums than years. It was hard to believe they were those two little kids; it seemed more like it happened to someone else.

Letting out another snore that sounded more like an upchuck, Robbie rolled onto his left side, his hand hanging off the bed and fingers brushing against the blue carpeted-floor. She wondered if he'll be shocked when he wakes up and finds out she's gone. Or maybe he wouldn't. After all, she did the slip-out trick with nearly every guy she's been with. Rob's done that dance hundreds of times with hundreds of partners since he impressively lost his virginity to a high school senior while he was still in eighth grade.

"Thanks Rob," she murmured, dropping a kiss on his temple. He barely stirred. "Good to know I can count on you."

Making sure she was decent and had everything she need, she let herself out, but not before taking one last hit of the leftover pot. Sweet Jesus was it ever strong. She left Rob's apartment and went into her own, slipping in quickly and quietly.

Her stomach growled, dying of starvation and churning from the beer she drank. She was also pretty thirsty; thanks to the pot and cigarettes she smoked today. But she was too tired and made her way to her bedroom.

Kicking off her shoes and dropping her bag onto the floor, she crawled into bed. Then felt something lump and weird under her pillow. Three actually.

Three paperback books: _Jane Eyre_, her all-time favorite classic, glossy and brand-new, which was a far cry from the tattered, dog-eared one she got cheap at a used bookstore, _Jane_, a modern day retelling of Jane Eyre, which looked pretty good, and _Before I Fall_. Underneath the books was a note written on an orange Post-it. Gabriella stacked the books on her nightstand, switched on the lamp, and read it.

_I know_, it said, her brother's handwriting sloppy. _I went all a-hole on you and shouldn't have. I knew these can't make up for it, but hope it can be a start_.

_Not even close_, she thought, shaking her head. _He's going to have to do better than that. _

Gabriella crumbled the note into a ball and tossed it into the purple wastebasket across the room, making the perfect shot. Then she fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

><p>The next morning, it wasn't the construction work that woke her up. Nor was it the sunshine that was more painfully bright than yesterday or the sleep of something delicious lingering in the air.<p>

It was Paco straddling her waist and bouncing onto her like she was trampoline, laughing and clapping and refusing to let her sleep.

"Go away." she tiredly mumbled repeatedly. Getting up early on short sleep while nursing off a hangover was not a good combination. "I mean it!"

At the peak of the laughing and bouncing that was becoming too much, she surrendered with a heavy sigh and rolled eyes. Paco was bouncing, laughing, and clapping so much, she quickly grabbed hold of him before he fell.

"If it wasn't for the fact you're my nephew and I love you, I'd sock you." Carrying him over her head, she got out of bed and scooped him in her arms as she walked into the kitchen. Anita and Javier were already up.

"Check it out! I got knocked up and had him overnight." She presented the laughing baby to Anita, a grin on her face.

Javier, who was seated on a stool at the countertop table, barely glanced up from his newspaper. Anita, who was flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs, turned away from her cooking to smirk at her.

"And who, may I ask, is the daddy?"

"Why Johnny Depp, of course." Gabriella smiled and tickled Paco as he started laughing again.

Anita glanced at Paco before she looked up at Gabriella again, a dark brow raised suspiciously. "Talented, very good-looking, multi-billionaire Johnny Depp? Famous Hollywood actor? That Johnny Depp?" Gabriella nodded. "Last time I checked, he has a girlfriend with two kids."

"Well, now he has three. Besides ever heard of a mistress? Whenever Johnny needs some relaxing from his stressful, glamorous Hollywood life and needs good loving, he knows where to find me. Knows I give to him good."

"Loco, obsesionado fan-puta!" Anita swatted her with a dishrag and Gabriella ran away, squealing.

"And proud of it!" she smiled, sliding into the stool.

Putting down the paper, Javier grabbed Paco and fastened him into his white highchair at the end of the table. "Not in the front of the kid, for God's sake."

"You need to learn when to take a joke." Anita told him, setting a plate of hot tortillas and a kiss on his cheek.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." he muttered dismissively.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." she mocked him.

"It's not like he knows what we're saying. He's only thirteen months. He doesn't even speak Spanish." Gabriella said.

"_Yet_!" Anita looked sharply at her smirking face. "No son of mine is going to be Puerto Rican American and not speak a word of Spanish."

"He's only half!"

"Half, thirds, a quarter, pint," Anita listed off, dismissing each with a wave of her hand. "Doesn't matter. Paco should embrace his heritage."

"Spoken like a true Latina."

Anita grinned. That, besides complimenting her looks or charm, was one of the best compliments you can give her. She was one who firmly believed in ethic heritage and one should embrace where they come from.

She was 100% Puerto Rican, from her dark hair and Hispanic features to her thick, fluent Spanish accent. With her dark tanned, bronze skin, nearly black hair cut in a bob that looked like a small poofy afro, slender figure with long legs and beautiful, bright face, Anita reminded Gabriella an awful lot of Anita from West Side Story played by the flawless Rita Moreno. Some customers and strangers who remembered the movie always stopped her from whatever she was doing and asked for an autograph.

She came from San Juan when she was 24, sad to leave home but, like some, determined to make a fresh start and a new name for herself. She met Javier shortly after when she was taking the lunch shift at Dave's and her diner was the closet place to take his lunch break. He flirted with her, she played hard to get, but in the end they hit it off and he left with her phone number, and, soon enough, a girlfriend. Two years older than Javier, she's been his girl for almost three years now, mother to her nephew for over a year, and recently became Gabriella's best girlfriend who was also like the older sister she never had.

Anita made them a big, delicious breakfast that was, like almost every meal she made, too big to fed an army. Huge stacks of chocolate chip pancakes (Gabriella's favorite), scrambled and fried eggs, biscuits sandwiches with egg and cheese and bacon with ham (also one of Gabi's favorites), and strawberry jam to go with the toast.

Well, that was for them. Paco had a few teeth, but still Anita was one who never took chances, especially when it came to her kid. For him, she served a bowl of mashed fruits, complements from Gerber baby, with a fresh bottle to go with it.

Though her head still was pounding from the beer and pot, her stomach was growling ten times more than it did when she came in last night. So she forced herself to eat as much as she can, filling her plate with everything, doubling up on the coffee she badly needed, never remembering feeling so hungry before.

"So what happened to you yesterday? You were gone all day." Anita said.

Gabriella put down the biscuit sandwich she was about to put into her mouth and snuck a look at her brother, who avoided her eyes. Typical. He was too much of a bum to ask himself, so he had his girlfriend ask for him. Stuffing the whole sandwich in her mouth and swallowing it whole, she said "I had to go somewhere."

"And where would that be?" Javier asked before Anita could. Even though he was supposedly too busy reading the paper to pay any attention to their conversation.

_Bite me_, she scowled at him, quickly turning her eyes to Anita. "I had to meet up with a partner for our project. It's for an elective class, Creative Literature. Me and my partner are doing _Carmen_."

"Oh, that's wonderful-" Anita started, but Javier cut her off harshly, saying "You're kidding me. Correction: you're _lying_ to me."

"First off, I wasn't talking to you!" Gabriella exclaimed. "Second, I'm not lying. Why the fuck would I lie? Or maybe a better question would be why the fuck don't you trust me?"

"Let me think," He thought about it for a moment or two and came up with the answer. "Maybe because I trusted you to behave at East High. I thought you would get it into your head; none of us can afford to mess up. I fucking begged you not to screw up! And what do you do? You fucking fucked up as always."

Gabriella clenched her fists so tightly, the skin was ghost white. Lord knows if he kept talking, she would punched him without giving him a second thought. "Don't you fucking tell me who fucked up, you fucking fucker! I never asked for this. I never even wanted it. You don't have jack to complain about since you aren't the one who was forced to leave home behind. _Do you really fucking think I wanna be in this shit-hole?_"

"Language!" Anita scolded, scowling herself. Gabriella couldn't be sure if she was mad at her for cussing in front of Paco, at Javier for starting another fight, or at both of them for cussing, a big no-no, in the presence of Paco and fighting. Again. "Knock it off, the both of you."

But the siblings continued on and on as if they hadn't heard her, yelling at each other and throwing insults back and forth. Resulting a very pissed-off Anita screaming at them to shut up and knock it off and Paco, who was no longer laughing but loudly howling in sobs.

"As if your life was any better than now!" Javier yelled. The only thing standing between them from scratching out each other's eyes was the countertop in between. Food forgotten, fists clenched, they moved away from the table to the living room, where they stood apart from each other.

Tempers flaring, patience quickly running thin. If they moved an inch closer or one even dares breathe in a deep, fists were sure to fly.

"I was doing fine in school. I had my dance studio. I had a life. And I was doing fine!" Gabriella scowled.

"You call living in hell _fine_? Getting into trouble _fine_? The police getting involved _fine_?" Javier seethed in rage. "In the dear name of Christ, may the good fucking Lord help me, Ella-"

"_Javier_!" Anita screamed in the kitchen.

"You ain't Miss Sunshine either, sweetheart. I may be the fucking fucker, but better that than what you are." He continued on.

"And what the fuck am I?" Gabriella exclaimed.

"A fucking bitch who does nothing but complains and whines over everything! A fucking whore who probably slept with the school's entire male population by now!"

"I ain't no fucking-"

"A fucking bitch, cheap whore, and inconsiderate ass to make a sickening combination. I swear to God, _you're just like her!_"

Non-necessary, completely uncalled for, and way out of line. No matter how many messed up things she called him or he said to her, there was no reason in the world to even bring that up and actually say that.

She opened her mouth, to defend herself, to call him an abandoned asshole, which exactly was what he was. To say that he was no better than she was. But Javier was one step ahead, knocking her out of his way with his shoulder and walking out the front door. Leaving for work with a heavy slam to the door and not saying a word to anyone.

_Damn him_, she thought. There was a stinging sensation burning in her eyes, tears rushing to them. Anita started towards her, a crying Paco in her arms, but she ran to her room.

A lump was forming in her throat. Tears flooded her eyes, refusing to be ignored. Something twisted and coiled inside her like it was snapping apart from her, the pressure building up inside her. Gabriella slammed the door hard and locked the door, kicking it with her foot. Rage engulfed her, making her blind in fury.

She eyed the books Javi left her last night as a peace offering. She picked up Jane and debated whether or not to toss it, along with the others, out the window, throw against the wall, or tear the pages out. In the end, she dropped them back onto her nightstand, doing nothing.

She didn't have the heart to rip out the pages. She couldn't do that to a book.

Taking in deep breaths, Gabriella ran her hands through her hair, tugging at it so hard the pain was almost enough to make her forget. Almost. With her back against the wall, she sank down to the floor and counted backwards from one hundred, trying to erase those hurtful words her brother said that replayed in her head over and over again.

"_You're just like her."_

Two hours later, Anita came into her room. Paco was already okay and smiling again, but one step into Gabriella's room, his smile was wiped away completely.

Anita hesitantly entered with a soft knock to the door. Gabriella laid face-down on her bed, not moving one bit even when she heard them. "Gabi? You okay?"

"Fine," she mumbled. She wasn't sure if it was the hangover or the fact she barely won her battle against the tears, but she felt exhausted. "Leave me alone, Anita. Yo no estoy de humor."

But she could still tell Anita hadn't moved an inch from her position. She asked her why she was even here; reminding the young mother she wanted to be left alone.

Sighing, Anita came fully into the room, thinking about her answer. "Because since I'm already mothering a baby, I figure mothering a teenager girl will give me a head start for Paco's later years."

Anita didn't expect Gabriella to laugh, but she also didn't expect her to pull the pillow over her head and bury herself even further into the bed.

Her son was squirming in her arms, as if there was an itch he couldn't scratch. When she finally let him down, he crawled over to Gabriella and slowly stood on both feet as he reached her bed. He stood there, quiet and patient. Gabriella finally lifted her head up a bit and looked at him. He slowly took one of her hands, looking at it closely like it was a puzzle he was trying to solve, placed it upon his face, and made an adorable face through the spaces between her fingers.

"Gabi." he said.

Even in her most depressed state, she couldn't stop laughing at his adorable face. Neither could Anita. Using the hand he placed on his face, she placed it on his head as she leaned forward to kiss his forehead and down to his stomach, tickling it and making him laugh the hardest out of the three. "I swear to God, this little guy always knows how to make me feel better. Preciosa una."

Anita kneeled in front of the bed took him into her arms. "I know. That's why I love him," After kissing Paco's forehead, she looked at her. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

"Yeah," Gabriella smiled weakly but barely. Sighing, she stretched out her sore muscles and sat up in her bed, bringing her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. "Nothing like a good insult to really wound someone's pride."

"He didn't mean it," Anita settled Paco onto the bed and sat beside Gabriella. She laid Gabriella's head on her shoulder and embraced her warmly, gently rocking her back and forth while tucking her hair behind her ear. Gabriella was motionless and expressionless all throughout, not showing a single reaction, but she would be lying if she said it didn't comfort her. "He was just upset. Yesterday morning, he got unwanted letter from the electric company. We try to be careful, but as usual, it's never enough. And it doesn't help we have overdue bills to pay, too. He lost it and when he saw you were gone, he just took it out on you. I'm so sorry, sweetie."

Gabriella shook her head after she sighed and mumbled "It's not like I never left home."

The silence lengthened between them until Anita finally said "You know what we need? A cure to put erase on our Sunday blues," She looked outside the window, at the beautiful autumn day. "It's too nice stay inside."

Though Gabriella was in no mood whatsoever to do anything, staying in all day and feeling like shit was pathetic. She sighed again, giving in. "What do you have in mind?"

Anita's reply was a sly smile.

* * *

><p>"Let me see it!" Anita said, pounding outside the dressing room. "It's been ten minutes."<p>

"Give me a minute. Have some patience." Gabriella said inside.

Outside, she heard Anita sigh heavily and dramatically. When she heard footsteps walking away, Gabriella stuck her head out of the room, watching Anita race over to Paco before he put a black spiked bracelet into his mouth.

"Paco! No! No!" she said. "That's not for you to eat."

Gabriella shook her head as she rolled her eyes and went back inside.

Anita's cure for their Sunday blues was shopping. Usually once or twice a month, they go shopping for new clothes at store outlets and the mall. Even though they already went shopping last weekend and the one before, Anita was free this Sunday, she printed plenty of coupons from different stores, and they had enough money to splurge.

After a 45-minute subway ride, they reached the Northeast shopping center, which had thirteen shops and boutiques, including Anita's favorite, Ann Taylor, a cool thrift store that sold amazing clothes rich women gave away. Shopping and stopping at a few stores, they took a 30-minute bus ride to the huge mall downtown. Twelve stories high with more than three dozens stores, shops, boutiques, and seven restaurants and five cafes, and a huge food court.

Thankfully, this was one shopping trip they didn't have to worry too much about money since nearly every store was having a pre-Thanksgiving sale at 50% off. They went to Old Navy, where they picked up sweet jeans and shirts for the family. At Kohl's, where they had a sweet fashion collection named Candies' by Miss Britney Spears Gabriella thought was hot. Then, after stopping at Urban Outfitters and TJ Maxx, they went to Barnes & Nobles, where Gabriella barely resisted buying another new book and also was able to get a free paperback to go with it.

After the bookstore, Gabriella practically pulled Anita's arm off as she raced to her all-time favorite store, besides Barnes & Nobles and Borders, Red Balls. It was a trendy store that was half vintage with some of the seriously cool stuff they had in shock and half like an outlet to the trendy store, like Lords & Taylor with the designer knockoffs. It was her all-time favorite store back in NY, where she always bought most of her clothes from, and became her favorite again when she moved here.

"Gabriella, hurry up!" Anita cried. Gabriella raced around the store, picking up clothes off the racks and shoes off the shelves before going into the dressing rooms. Anita and Paco waited for her outside, sitting on the red leather chairs the store had. Problem was Anita was a woman who patience ran out _fast_. "While I'm still young."

"Wait!" she said. Inside the dressing room, she looked at her reflection intently, deciding whether the outfit was right for her or wrong.

Bright pink soft, fuzzy best underneath a black long-sleeved tee with a pink rock'n'roll electric guitar printed on the front, a matching bright pink plaid mini skirt that had rocker's edge with chains dangling on either side but remained girly with the pink rose pinned near the left pocket, and black biker boots she paired with fishnet stockings.

Gabriella looked at her the mirror and turned her body around at different angles, examining her appearance. It seemed to have too much pink. She wouldn't say she hated pink since it wasn't the worst color in the world. But also wouldn't say it was her favorite color, which was reserved for red. The outfit may have a bit too much pink, but the more she looked at her reflection in it the more she digs it. The rocker edginess definitely brought out her rebellious free-spirit while the girlish flare of colors showed her inner girly-girl.

Also, it definitely brought out her curves.

"Gabriella!" Hearing Anita calling her-_again_-brought her out of her thoughts. Rolling her eyes, she came out, doing a small twirl before posing.

"What do you think?" she said.

Anita opened her mouth, but closed it soon enough as she critically eyed Gabriella's outfit.

"So you like?" Gabriella asked, doing another small twirl.

"I like," Anita confirmed, smiling. "Very much like."

They took Paco's excited clapping and laughing as signs of approval.

"And you're in luck," Gabriella told her. "All this," She gestured at her outfit "I found in the clearance bins, including the shoes. With the 25% off clearance, the 50% sale going on, plus sales' tax…" She calculated the math easily in her head. "The total comes to…less than twenty-five bucks."

"That's good," Anita nodded. "I really do love the outfit, Gabi. Maybe I'll borrow it."

Both girls looked at each other, eyeing the other for a long moment or two before bursting into laughter. The idea of the two of them swapping clothes and going through each other's closets was downright hilarious. Anita's style was way more girlish while Gabriella's…was less than that.

Getting back into the changing room, she changed back into the original outfit she wore on their outing trip: a black and white checkered cap-sleeve shirt with a hem that ended three inches above her stomach over a black tank top and ripped jeans tucked into her black uggs. Besides the rock 'n' roll outfit, she also got for herself a few more tank tops, couple of rocking tops and cool graphic tees, low and high rise jeans, and tons of vintage items that screamed her name.

The employee handling the check out has been watching them-particularly her-since they walked into the store. So, when it was time to ring up their items, he gave her a extra super discount reserved strictly for employees that cut back their final total so much they barely had to pay really anything. They left the store with Anita beaming, satisfied with the bargains they scored, and the love struck puppy who kept his eyes on Gabriella.

"Sometimes, you can be really unbelievable. You know that?" Anita said. The girls carried an equal amount of shopping bags in one hand, linked their arms through each other as they walked, and Anita used her free hand to stroke Paco's head. After hearing too many stories that happened between babies in strollers and careless mothers she barely uses his stroller. Especially when they were traveling by the commute. So he was strapped in front of Anita into those baby carriers that made them like human backpacks.

"The guy practically gave us this stuff for free, so he can get a name out of you and you give me a fake one."

"Is it fake?" Gabriella arched her eyebrow. "I always loved the name Cataleya. Had it my way, I switched names in a second."

"You're insane."

As they were walking to the food court, they passed by two girls hanging near the bridge near the fountain. Gabriella recognized them from homeroom. The blonde was like a glamourized Barbie, dressed to the nines in designer label clothes that cost more than what Gabriella could hope to make in four years. The other was smaller, with short brown hair that contrasted with the blonde's gold locks and wore round glasses, dressed more like a tomboy in her Old Navy sweatshirt and jeans.

When the two girls spotted Gabriella, conversation stopped between as they shared a look and stared at her, dumbstruck. Probably a shocker the new loner in school was actually out in daylight, in such a public place.

"Hey, you're Gabri-" At the look of Gabriella's cold, stink-eye, the small brunette quickly snatched the blonde's hand before she could finish the sentence and fled.

"New friends?" Anita raised her eyebrow, looking amused.

"Only my two besties!" Gabriella smiled sweetly.

Laughing their heads off all the way, they walked down to the huge food court that took up the entire space of the first floor. There were more than dozens of choices from McDonalds' to Wendy to Sal's and East Ocean Chinese food. Anita ordered a Caesar salad from Wendy's to go with her double bacon cheeseburger instead of fries and a large diet Coke. From Sal's, Gabriella gotten herself a medium pepperoni pizza with a large Dr. Pepper to go with it.

They settled at a small gray, square table near the left. Anita unstrapped Paco from the carrier and into a high chair, feeding him a fresh bottle and offering some chicken she cut into tiny pieces.

"So why _Carmen_?" Anita asked in between bits of salad.

Gabriella swallowed her fourth slice, washing it down with some soda. Then she explained what the class was about, the genre they were studying now and what the project was about, and why Carmen was so perfect because it was so rarely used and an amazing love story.

"So you're going to be doing the final dance between Carmen and Don Jose?" Anita asked.

"Pretty much," Finishing up the last, she moved onto the other with a huge bite. Swallowing it down, she continued "Dancing is not only a huge part of Carmen, but is something not many people done for a project."

"So what's this partner like? Mr. Bolton?" Gabriella took another big bite of her pizza and took her time chewing, avoiding the question. Anita raised her eyebrow but asked instead "Can he at least dance?"

Gabriella thought back to their first rehearsal. They had a _long_ way to go before they came even close to the tango. _He_ had a long way to go before she could begin showing him how to move in fast rhyme. He may not be the most graceful, but he was getting off to be somewhat close to decent. "Let's just say don't expect him to enter Dancing with the Stars anytime soon. Or any dancing competition at all."

Anita giggled, and silence took over as the three eat their meals and got some ice cream. For Anita, she got herself and Paco a small vanilla and chocolate swirl sundae. For Gabriella, she got herself the triple brownie supreme with large chunks of brownies in smooth chocolate ice cream with chocolate sprinkles, hot fudge, and whipped cream.

Anita heard her phone vibrating in her small purse. She took it out, seeing a new message, and looked at Gabriella after she read it. Putting it back, she asked hesitantly "Got a new message."

"So I noticed." Gabriella said, licking a glob of cream off her spoon.

"It was from Javier," Gabriella focused intently on the rest of the ice cream still in her bowl, not saying a word. "He wants to know how you're doing. Called you more than three times but can't seem to reach you." Gabriella's continuing silence fueled frustration in Anita. "He's trying, Gabriella. Can you at least give him that?"

Gabriella dropped the spoon into the container, her appetite gone, and passed it onto Paco, who eagerly dug his hand and spoon into the ice cream. She felt the holes Anita's eyes were burning into her, wanting her to look up at her or say something. But she refused. She reached into her denim pocketbook purse she made herself from old pairs of jeans, pulled out _Jane_, and started to read.

Anita wanted to do nothing more than to yell out in frustration, angry at Gabriella for not trying, at Javier who somehow managed to tense up their relaxing afternoon, and finally at herself because she realized once again all too soon there was still too much between them. So much, she had an idea of but didn't completely understand, so much that it seemed impossible to close the wounds.

She slowly reached over to put down the book, place her finger under Gabriella's chin, and made her look up. She held her gaze, long and steady. Gabriella's eyes were hooded, expressionless almost, but she knew she had her attention. "Your brother cares about you, Gabriella. So much. I know it may not seem that way most of the time, but it's true. He loves you."

Gabriella said nothing. Not that Anita expected her to anyway. When she tried to twist free from her grip, Anita tightened it, not letting her go so easily. "Since we've been dating, you were mostly what he taked about. How much he misses you, how he hoped you were alright, the things the two of you did together. He told me countless stories of two of you escaping to your magical world."

An image of the two of them huddled up in bed, their magical tent put up over their heads, squeezing hands popped into Gabriella's mind. She willed the memory away, not wanting to be reminded of it, and listened to the rest of Anita's speech.

"I know Javi can be a hothead most of the time. Paranoid, stubborn, a huge pain in the butt," Anita said. "But please knows he loves you. And please give him a break, sweetie. To this day, he still feels incredibly guilty about what happened, but to him this is a chance to make it right. Can you two please try to work things out? Please?"

The word "alright" slipped out from her tongue before Gabriella can have control. Anita smiled at her and managed to hug her across the table. She responded to the hug, but her mind was miles away in thought.

She really did wished things could be that simple, but simple wasn't an aspect in the Montez clan. Remembering the countless memories of the two of them being so close, she wished that unbroken bond between them could be mend and be strong as it once was. But it could never be because things still weren't right. The pain was all too fresh; she could still feel it running down her spine, clawing at her heart. The wounds still so deep, it was like there was nothing that could make up for it. The memories still clear and fresh like it happened yesterday.

Gabriella knew Anita wanted things to be right between her and her brother almost as much as she did herself. However, as much as she wanted it, Anita really didn't understand it. She couldn't because she wasn't there, in their shoes. She had no idea. Honestly, no one could get it or did. Not even Rob since he came from a pretty normal family.

"_Story of my life_," was the comment Pup said to her yesterday after her phone call. He, without a doubt, heard the yells between the siblings and then compared her family drama with his one, practically saying his own home life was no better than hers.

It was so hard to believe because he was the school's golden boy. One of the most popular jocks leading the team to winnings championships, the perfect student that came home with perfect grades, had tons of girls who'd sell their soul just to be touched by him. Had tons of friends, was very-liked by everyone, and had no reason to worry at all because his life was so perfect.

But she remembered the look in his eyes as he said his comment, the absolute sincerity in his eyes even as he lowered them, which were hooded and looked so sad, angry, and ashamed while he talked in a flat tone. That was something she was all too familiar with.

Maybe there was more to pup than she thought. Maybe someone else did get it.

Maybe.

* * *

><p><strong>An: Thanks for the reviews. It means so much to me you guys love my story. Also, pics of Javier, Rob, and Anita are in profile, so if you're curious take a look. Also, if you have any ideas what should what happen next, tell me please. I love hearing new ideas. <strong>

**Peace out ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

**ET CHAPTER 8: Sweet Dreams or Nightmares**

It was 7:45 am on another Wednesday morning in Albuquerque. The blue skies and warm sun were hidden behind gloomy, gray clouds, the air lost any warmth it had previously and was now in usual, freezing winter weather, and, like any morning, was too early for anyone to be there.

Then again, Troy's mind was really tired after barely surviving the holidays.

The week before Thanksgiving vacation went by quickly, filled with endless homework assignments and tests and quizzes. It ended with a "friendly" basketball game between East High Wildcats and West High Knights. The Wildcats won 42 to 40.

His dad wasn't pleased the points were so close, but nevertheless forgot about it as soon as the team was handed another gold, shiny trophy to add to the collection.

Everyone had big plans for the Thanksgiving weekend, either staying or leaving home. He and his friends were no expectations. Chad was staying home while relatives near and far were coming to his house. Taylor's family went to New Jersey, the Evans clan were headed to Paris, French and Kelsi gone back to Nebraska for the holidays. Zeke and Jason's families come together to celebrate a huge Thanksgiving feast at Zeke's, a tradition they've been doing every year since they were next door neighbors. As for the Boltons, they traveled to Maine, where they celebrated Thanksgiving at his grandmother's house.

It was the same tradition they did every year, always the same routine. Carry apple pie and Doris's homemade tuna casserole to the door. Smile when Grandma opens the door, her wrinkled sweet face flushed in excitement and slight shock before she invites you in. Accept the sloppy, lipstick-stained kisses and spine-crushing hugs from aunts. The sometimes gentle, some hard hearty slaps on the backs from uncles. And the barely-looking glances and fake smiles from cousins who had better things to do than acknowledge you.

Sure, it was boring. It was also annoying. But there was a familiarity about it Troy liked. Well, not exactly like, but he did get comfort from it.

Troy successfully managed to eat a plateful of food, let his mind wonder throughout most of the dinner, and able to sneak back into reality just in time to answer questions family would ask him. There was no hesitance or stumble; because it was the very same questions they asked every family gathering.

"How are your grades looking, Troy?"

"Just great, Aunt Mallory. Getting straight A's."

"My boy, you've grown. How tall are you?"

"About 5'12, Uncle Matt. Another inch I'll be six feet tall."

"You are so handsome, Troy. I bet you're quite the heartbreaker, leaving behind a long trail of hearts."

He'd blush and answer "I wouldn't say that, grandma."

Following the routine and having that comfort was what he loved. No surprises. Everything accounted for and needs no worries. Nothing unexpected.

That was the way things kept going until a certain thing was said.

"Glad to know you're doing amazing in basketball," said his favorite uncle, Toby. He was his dad's twin brother, born ten minutes earlier. The difference between the two was the fact Toby wore glasses and was scruffier compared to his dad and the different personalities. Jack was the outgoing athletic in the family while Toby was the quiet artist. Also, Toby was the _nicer_ one out of the two. Often, Troy wished his uncle was his dad since he seemed to get him better. "My little brother says you're really whipping the team into shape."

Taking a bite of his gravy-coated mashed potatoes, Troy glanced quickly at his dad. Jack smiled pleasantly while his eyes told another story, filled with warning. "Yeah, the team is doing great."

"You're being modest," his dad said, taking over the conversation. "The Wildcats are doing amazing and will definitely win the championships."

Troy said nothing, but his over anxious and drunken great uncle, Albert, did. Commenting loudly how it won't be long before Troy was in U of A, playing basketball and going pro. The first Bolton to ever make it far.

His obnoxious, twelve year old cousin, Andy, couldn't let that go without adding a comment of his own. "That's not true, Uncle Al. You've definitely been drinking too many shots. Don't you remember? Mike would have gone pro. He would have been playing in the LA Lakers if it wasn't for-"

Aunt Penny reached across the table to stuff his mouth with mashed potatoes. But it was too late; the damage was already done. Everyone froze and fell into silence that was heavy and awkward. And, though, Troy's head thankfully was lowered, he felt their eyes looking at him.

His mom quickly excused herself from the table, needing to make a call. Troy, too, excused himself. His dad stayed behind, smiling brilliantly and restarting conversation again into a different topic, but there was nothing that could undo the damage already done.

Dinner, then, was awkward all throughout and the awkwardness continued to hover around as they said their goodbyes. Most wouldn't even look him in the eye.

His grandmother, who took her time hugging him instead of quickly wrapping her arms around him and letting go too soon, held him tightly. "Nobody blames you, sweetheart," she murmured into his ear. "We know it was an accident. A horrible one, but it happens."

It was sweet, somewhat touching. But held no comfort because Troy saw the truth just by looking into her eyes.

If dinner wasn't bad enough, the ride back home was_ horrible_. Silent and filled with such thick tension the sharpest knife couldn't cut it. Jack kept his eyes on the road, hands gripping tightly onto the wheel and gritting his teeth. Beside him, Lucille cleverly kept her head down while fidgeting with her Blackberry. Neither of them said a word to Troy since dinner or looked back once during the long, tensed drive.

When the Boltons came home, Lucille was already out the door again. She needed to get to the airport, so she can catch her last minute flight to New York. Apparently, there was some business she had to take care of that couldn't wait until tomorrow. His dad went into his study with two bottles of strong bourbon and a six-pack, yelling he didn't want anyone to bug him. Troy was left alone to deal with his own "business" like his parents.

He did so without leaving the country or drowning himself in liquor. He went into his darkroom, drowning himself in his photos and film.

Troy hasn't seen his mom since she left that night. He barely heard from her at all since work seemed to be taking her all time. He only saw his dad several times during the break, coming out for more liquor or finding Troy so he can yell and beat him.

Troy heard the loud second bell ringing inside the school. According to the time on his dashboard, it was 8:06, which means everyone's either in or rushing to homeroom. Everyone except him that is.

It was official. For the first time in history, Troy Alexander Bolton was late for school. Exactly ten minutes. Odd, because he arrived thirty minutes early than anyone else.

His backpack on the passenger seat and extra large Dunkin Donuts coffee in the cup holder, he was all set and ready to go. But something wouldn't let him, making him sit quietly inside his car while he watched friends rushing over to greet each other, hugging and laughing, and heading inside the school. Minutes passed by and he was still in his car, frozen in his seat while his mind was filled with too many thoughts.

_Another Thanksgiving came and gone_, Troy thought. _Just as awkward as last year and the year before that. And the one before that. _

He leaned his head against the chair and yawned, his whole body losing whatever little energy it had left in his body. Reminding him of the little sleep he had last night. Just like the night before, and the one before that, and one before that one, too. For the past several weeks, he barely had a wink of sleep ever since that Saturday when he danced with the devil.

Or angel?

He wasn't sure if it was the way she looked like (which was breathtaking). The feel of her touch (which was electrical as the glow of her intense eyes). Or the way their bodies were pressed against each other, fitting perfectly as they moved together. All Troy knew was, for one reason or the other, he hasn't been able to get Gabriella Montez out his mind.

That Saturday night after the dancing, Troy retreated to his room after a near two-hour beating from his very angry and drunken father and crawled into bed, sleeping like the dead. The moment he closed his eyes, all he saw was her. Her long, raven hair his fingers ached to run his fingers through, her strange gaze that always did something to his heart whenever he met it, and her lips he couldn't stop thinking about. And had the strongest urge to get a taste of them.

In his dreams, they were often dancing in either a slow and graceful waltz or a hot and fast tango, with little space between their bodies. In some dreams, he was following her to an unknown place. Her strange tattoo would be glowing, and she'd never once look back to see if he was following. Somehow, she knew he was and the sense of thrilling danger always made him follow her. Recently, though, the dreams were becoming intense.

Ones where they were kissing. And not even soft pecks, but full-blown kisses that were anything but soft. Kisses that were desperate, hungry, and passionate, all whilst their tongues did a dance that was sultry as any tango and dangerous as a battle. Sometimes, in the dreams, they didn't stop there. They would go beyond kissing, slowly peeling off each other's clothes and giving all to one another.

Last night dream was no expectation.

Troy could still feel their lips pressed against each other, the kisses lingering and indescribably amazing. How he thought he died and went straight to heaven the second Gabriella undid the knot holding her lingerie together and the silk slide down her body, baring it all. Hearing her soft moans calling out to him. Her lips going lower and lower, reaching the jackpot.

Her lips were soft but firm, as well as her tongue. Doings things to him and making him feel things he didn't think were possible.

Against his better judgment, Troy closed his eyes, glimpses of the dream flashing through his mind. How wrong yet right it felt being with Gabriella. Her kisses that erased anything and everything, but the feeling their lips created together. Her lips doing unbelievable things to his penis.

The more he thought about it, the harder he was becoming. He could feel a bulge swelling up in his pants, getting harder and hornier each second. Desire hit him hard, engulfing him. How was it possible for him to feel this way? And over a dream?

He wasn't stupid. He was a seventeen year old boy with high hormones that always went into overdrive when it comes to the opposite sex. He even had a few sex dreams in the past, which would come as a shock to a lot of people. But none of them-not one-ever made his body, or his penis, feel his needy and eager in _and _out of the dream.

Resisting the urge to groan, Troy cracked his eyes open a bit and his heart, along with the rest of his body, froze in a heated second. Perched onto his lap was the dark, temping angel herself, smirking at his shocked expression, dressed in the same naughty French lingerie she wore in the dream that left little to the imagination.

Before he could say a word, she pressed a finger against her lips, silencing him. He obeyed. She then slowly pulled on the rubber band holding her hair into a tight bun, freeing the raven locks she shook loose. She leaned in close to her, placing her hands on his shoulders, and whispered in his ear "You know you want me, pup."

_No I don't_, he thought, resisting. He wouldn't give into temptation so easily, no matter how tight his pants were suddenly becoming. He was stronger than that. _School, U of A, finally being free from Dad._ _No distractions whatsoever, so nothing can get in the way. You shouldn't even like her. She's reckless, dangerous, and can be a real pest-_

Gabriella blow long, hot air into his ear, silencing all his thoughts in a second. Heart racing fast, words was struck in his throat and he trembled uncontrollably. As much as he didn't want to, he titled his head back to loudly moan, unable to hold it in. She seized the opportunity by kissing the sensitive part of his neck, pressing her body more against his.

As painful as it was not to give in and let her win, Troy couldn't. But her kisses were powerful weapons, diminishing every fiber of his resistance till there was barely enough for him to use. Sweat beaded across his forehead, dripping down his face, and the moans he has been trying to keep down were overpowering him.

"Gabriella." He muttered between moans. His hands, proving to be traitors, trailed up her unclothed back, feeling her soft skin.

She pulled back from his neck against his wishes. He groaned, protesting, but was soon moaning again as she placed her finger against his chest. Slowly she moved her finger down, leaving a burning trail in its wake, making him moan louder and louder, until her hand reached upon the jackpot.

"I…I…I…" He could barely remember what he was saying, or trying to try. The only thing he could concentrate on was the sound his zipper being pulled down and Gabriella's hand slipped through his boxers. He gasped at the soft touch as her hand settled on his penis and moaned loud as her hand began to move.

It was slow and soft, caressing almost and driving him absolutely crazy. The pressure, so much pressure, was building up inside him, threatening to explode any second.

Gabriella looked down at his huge "friend", felt the hard member, and smirked at Troy. Raising an eyebrow, she murmured "My, my, my. Who'd ever guess pup was a real hard one?"

She tiptoed two fingers across his member, encircling around the end. Something hot, sticky, and wet exploded from him, coming out long and hard. Troy threw his head back and groaned hard, no longer feeling like he was being weighted down but inside freed in pure ecstasy-like heaven.

Panting hard, he opened his eyes to see Gabriella removing her hand from his stained, damp boxers. Her hand was covered in him. Keeping her eyes on him, she licked off it off one finger at a time, rolling her tongue slowly over each one, making the hardness come back again with vengeance.

Troy watched her, paralyzed and turned on. With her last finger licked clean, she dropped that finger onto his trembling lips, brushing against them.

_Don't you want me_, her dark, seductive eyes said to him.

To hell with it!

Without giving it a second thought, Troy grabbed her face and gave into the temptation. And dear God was it ever amazing. He didn't just kiss her. He _devoured_ her, kissing her hard and hungrily, feeding off her sweet kisses like they were the food he starved for. Cupping her face properly, he added more and more passion to his kisses. Gabriella smirked against his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck while matching the intensity of his kisses with her own.

"Gabriella. Gabriella." he murmured against her lips, running his hand through her sleek mane.

"Troy." His name sounded like music the way it rolled off her tongue.

"Gabriella." She was beginning to pull away from him. He couldn't let that happen. He needed her and her sweet kisses. As he leaned in, she slipped through his fingers. He moved closer and closer.

He pressed his lips against the horn, letting off a loud beep that scattered his eardrums. The noises startled him so much; he banged his head against the car ceiling. Red stars briefly but painfully darted across his vision.

"Okay, its official," he murmured, wincing as he hesitantly touched his head. Doubtless, by the painful throbbing, he knew a huge bump would appear in no time. "I'm losing it."

The sound of a motorcycle took his attention away from the pain made him turn around. He watched the familiar black Hurley riding into the parking lot, parking in front of the school.

With _two_ passengers on it.

Gabriella unwrapped her arms around the driver's waist and took off her helmet. She shook her head loose, grabbed her things, and walked away.

Before she took another step, the driver grabbed her hand and pulled her back. Troy didn't know who it was since the black helmet covered his face, but knew, by the muscular physique and broad shoulders, it was indeed a guy. Troy couldn't hear what was going on, but the guy must have said something nice because a smile, a small one but unmistakably a smile, spread across her lips.

Troy was stunned. It was the first time he saw a smile that lasted longer on her face than a moment. Seeing her smile made her look even more beautiful. Softer and less hard-core.

The guy said something again and Gabriella not only smiled again, but she laughed, too. From Troy's distance, he made out the sound of her laughter, which was soft and bubbly. Carefree, almost. Not at all like the laugh had he expected. Watching them together, seeing the guy making her laugh, made something dark and murderous bit inside Troy.

She wrapped her arms around the guy's neck and leaned forward. The guy angled his body towards Gabriella, wrapping his arms around her waist and blocking Troy from their view. But, from his distance, it looked like they were…kissing.

He gripped his hand on the steering wheel, trembling uncontrollably in rage. The longer the two stayed together, the more and more Troy trembled in what felt like anger.

He got out of the car and headed towards them, his fists clenched and tight. Breaking them up, he pushed Gabriella aside, ignoring her protests and knocked the guy out cold with a single punch to the jaw. Gabriella watched, stunned. Feeling triumph and, for once being the smirking, he grabbed her, dipped her low, and kissed him with everything he had and felt her passionate response.

In reality, Troy was cars away from the Harley, the driver was perfectly fine, and Gabriella was in his arms instead of Troy's. Once they break apart-_finally!_- Gabriella headed inside after giving the guy a peck on the cheek and a two-finger salute wave, the guy rode off with a loud roar, and Troy was once again left alone in the parking lot.

_So, this is what jealously feels like?_ He thought, nodding. It took him a moment to realize what he was thinking and shocked, stiff.

_Jealously? I'm jealous?_

* * *

><p>"Seriously. What's with you, man?" Chad asked, as the boys stood side by side their lockers, unloading their backpacks. Around them, the halls were filled with students passing by, heading off to wherever they needed to go.<p>

"Nothing." Troy said for the 586th time today. To the same question Chad's been asking since he came to school half an hour late to everyone's amazement.

"You're lying." Chad concluded easily, after taking one look at him. They've been best friends for so long; it was easy to tell when something was ticking him off.

Ignoring his friend, Troy shut his locker hard with a bang, attracting the attention of dozens of students passing by.

Leaning against his locket, Chad looked more serious and a bit concerned. "I'm serious, man. What's with you?"

Troy pretended he had no idea what he was talking about, and Chad listed his reasons for being suspicious. First, he was late. He's known Troy since they were three and no matter what, no matter how sick he was, he always came to school on time. Second, in his classes, he never raised his hand or answered a question. Third, he was barely here. At lunch, when everyone was catching up, he was looking down at his sad lunch, his mind thousands away.

"Does it have anything to do with your dad?" asked Chad. Even though all friends knew his relationship with his dad was anything but the warm, loving father-son relationship, only Chad knew a bit more about what's going on behind the Boltons' closed door. He doesn't know about the beatings, which Troy plans to stay that way, but he does know his dad's tendency to pick up the bottle whenever things got intense. Then, when intense turns very stressful, he takes it out on him.

Troy shook his head. For once his dad wasn't the main problem.

"School?" A shaken head was Troy's response. "Basketball?" Another shake head.

"Okay," Chad nodded, thinking. It wasn't school, it wasn't the team, and, oddly enough, it wasn't his dad. Then what could be wrong? "Does it have anything to do with a certain Miss Montez?"

An image of Gabriella leaning towards the driver and he wrapping his arms around her popped into Troy's mind, reminding him of the confused but angry feelings he felt this morning. It came back full force, making him tremble in angry.

His friends already teased him to a no-end about his "crush" on Montez. The school already had ridiculous rumors of the two of them once word spread they were partners for a project. He couldn't trust Chad with this.

Without a word, he grabbed his backpack and strode off to the gym to meet his dad for a private practice.

Chad watched him go, taking no offense to the cold-shoulder act. He was honestly amused. No matter what Troy may say about her or what's going on between them, the girl definitely has him under her spell.

_About time someone does_, he thought, smiling to himself.

"There are sine things you can't control, Troy," Chad yelled after him. "And she's a good example."

The last thing Troy wanted to do was practice more basketball with his father. Free period was his last class of the day and there were hundreds of things he'd rather do. Like catch up with his friends and this time listen to them as they talked about their vacation break. Finish the month's worth of homework due the next day. Or go to the library and read a good book.

His rocky relationship with his father, however, was already going downhill fast. Ten times more badly than before. So for the sake of moment's peace, Troy went and endured it all. The aches and pains hurting his body, his dad's loud and angry voice calling out to him, and his dad's fixation of throwing the ball at the back of his head whenever he felt Troy was being lazy.

"Get your head in the game!" Jack roared, throwing the ball hard against his stomach and he nearly dropped to his knees from the hard hit.

Resisting the urge to groan, Troy took the ball and dribbled across the court, determined. He faked left, making Jack slightly stumble, faked right, and spun around his heel, ready to shoot.

Before he could make it, his dad came up all of the suddenly and swapped his face, banging in his nose hard and knocking him to the ground.

"Fucking hell!" he swore softly. Blood dripped from his nose in streams. He touched it lightly and saw crimson on his hand.

"_Weak_," Jack roared over his fallen son. "That's what you are. Fucking weak!"

Troy closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip hard, nearly drawing out blood. He tried blocking out the pain, the shouting, everything, so he can comfortably numb.

"Unbe-fucking-lievable! A captain taken down so easily. If you think this is painful, try this one on for size," Waves of pain bashed against him as he was kicked in the lower back. This time, more streams of blood oozed from Troy's mouth as he tried holding in a scream. His dad, as usual, didn't give a damn. He kept on screaming. "West Knights are brutal. Brutal! If you can get knocked down easily during practice, only God knows what will happen when you actually go against them."

His dad didn't stop there. He told Troy he better man up or step down. That he was lazy, worthless, spineless, and weak. He kept yelling he was weak, over and over again till it seemed the word was echoed in the hollow gym. Each insult hit him as hard as any punch or kick.

Troy tried blocking out everything. Tried imagining he was in his happy place, which was his dark room, developing his photos in peace, where his dad and demons couldn't get to him. But there was only so many blows and yelling a person can take before they snap.

"Why not just announce to the whole world, dad?" Troy slowly got up on his feet. His nose and lip were caked with blood and pain vibrated nearly every inch of his body. But he was too pissed to feel it. "Broadcast it on YouTube? Or why not CNN so everyone can know?"

"I know for a fact you're not talking back-" For the first time in his life, Troy actually cut off his dad. Normally, he'd never do such a thing, but he was that pissed.

"Tell them how much you despise me. How much you hate me. That I'm worthless and weak. A waste of space. Unwanted and unneeded," Troy continued. "Or why not come out and just say it? Tell them all-the whole friggering whole-I'm not _him!_"

There, he said. He actually said it. And it felt good. For a moment.

Huffing and puffing, Troy could his anger that seconds ago was ready to erupt went down back to nothing. By the time he completely wore off all his anger, he took notice how quiet Jack was.

Looking up at him, Troy saw his dad wasn't only quiet, but shocked. Wide-eyed, body frozen, silent shocked, Jack resembled Troy's expression to an unexpected blow. Then, just a soon as it was getting too much or going in too deep, it was gone. Like someone flipped off the switch. He composed himself into calmness. Controlled, expressionless calmness.

A mask Troy knew of and wore often.

His dad looked him straight in the eye and said "You're right. You're not him. You are not at all like Mike. Because unlike you, he wasn't an idiotic failure. Unlike you, the sight of him didn't sicken me. He made me proud, a simple thing a jackass like you can never do. He was perfect, a true Bolton. And now he's gone and I'm struck with you."

_All because of you_. The words weren't said, but they were there. Hanging over their heads, being whispered in the loud silence.

With all his might, fueled by anger and faux calmness, Jack lunged the ball into Troy's stomach so hard, Troy nearly coughed out blood. Then he left without a single word.

Troy kicked the ball away, sickened by it. His dad's words stung. More than his cruel insults and brutal beatings. It hit him harder any punch, slap, or kick his dad could do, with ten hundred times more force. Mainly because everything, every word, was true.

No matter what his dad said or how painful the beatings were, nothing was more hurtful or painful than those true words.

"_No matter what, Troy, nothing could break the M.T bond."_

"_You promise, Mike?"_

"_Always. I'll never leave you Troy."_

Nausea hit him heard, churning wildly in his stomach. He felt a lump, huge and dry, wedged in his throat, suffocating him.

"_How'd do you like it?"_

"_Awesome. Thanks for taking me. It was the most-Mike, watch out!" It was all he could say before everything went black. _

He couldn't breathe. The lump kept building up. Tears burned his eyes, threatening to come out even as he was trying with all his might not to.

"_Where is he?" he yelled frantically. Hundreds of IVs' were entangled around him, pinned into his body. So many people were surrounding him, checking his pulse, his temperature, his heartbeat, it was suffocating. He needed to know what happened and where was his brother. "Where's Mike?"_

"_He's gone," It was the first two words his dad said to him that night, speaking them coldly. He looked at his son in disgust. "Because of you."_

With an angry cry, Troy picked up the ball and threw it with all his might against the wall. It hit the wall so hard, it nearly left a dent. Troy sat down on the top bleachers, buried his face in his hands, and tried to pull it together.

But it wouldn't go away. A pack of emotions hit him all at once, eating away at him. Sadness, rage, grief, bitterness, with betrayal and guilt, the biggest ones, all wrapped into one.

Betrayal by Mike who promised nothing could break them apart. That he would never leave him.

Guilt for being angry.

Guilt for feeling betrayed.

Guilt for being selfish.

Guilt for being the one who was lucky. The unwanted one. While the wanted, supposed lucky one was unlucky that night.

_No, no, no!_ Troy said to himself over and over again while the emotions grew stronger. He wasn't going to cry. He wouldn't cry.

He heard footsteps coming into the gym, and didn't bother to look up. Not even when he felt the person's presence next to him.

A white napkin was handed to him.

Troy hesitantly took the napkin, but not before looking down at the pair of gray slouch uggs standing in front of him instead of his dad's expensive Italian loafers. His eyes slowly went up to the black skinny cropped jeans, to a long, graphic gray tank top, to a familiar, Latina face looking down at him.

Oh shit! Of all the things to happen, Gabriella had to walk in and see him at his worst moment.

For a moment the two of them did nothing but stare at each other in silence. Unreadable brown eyes looking into blood-shot blue, neither revealing anything. Saying nothing.

Finally Troy, seeing he had no choice, took the napkin and Gabriella took that as her cue to sit beside him. She brought out her lighter and Marlboro packs, lit a cigarette, and had herself a smoke, saying and nothing.

He watched her smoking for a minute, and then realized his face still looked horrible. It was the pain from his noise and crusted blood that reminded him.

Gabriella was on her second cigarette by the time he wiped up most of the blood. He knew there were a few bruises, but the best hope he had was people believing it was from a few knocks from practice.

He looked at her again, studying every flawless but distant feature while she smoked away.

She knew.

The realization hit Troy hard in the gut, knocking the wind out of him while filling him with shame. He couldn't say how or knew how, but could feel it in his gut.

"Look," He didn't know where to being or what to say. Normally the closest thing people have to the truth was suspicion, which he was able to shut down with quick wit and exclamation. Except Gabriella didn't have suspicious. She knew just by hearing the yelling and probably witnessing the abuse.

"What you saw back there was…nothing," It was the only thing he could say at the moment that was true. Compared to his dad's infamous trauma moments, this one was somewhat tamed. "My dad's just stressed out. Really stressed out. He can lose it a lot most of the time, but it's because he's under a lot pressure-"

"Story of my life." She repeated the exact words he said to her dance at Vicznor's. It was the first four words he heard from her the whole day, for almost two week actually. When she turned to her, there was something in her eyes. Something that was like sympathy, but deeper and entirely different.

Almost like understanding.

He wondered what kind of things she experienced herself that made her see things through his eyes.

Taking one last drag, she dropped the cigarette onto the ground and stomped on it. She didn't bother hiding it.

He moved out of her way as she got out and walked down the bleacher steps. He was surprised. No questions, no other comments, no sugar-coding. It was the second time in a row she seen his imperfections but made no comment.

Gabriella then stopped as she was close to the last step, turned back to him, and asked "You coming?"

"What?"

"Are you coming?" she says slowly and carefully like she was talking to a kid.

"What?" He knew he must have looked stupid repeating it again, but he couldn't help it. He was that shocked. There was no way Gabriella Montez, Miss Lone Wolf, actually asked him if he wanted to come with her. He rubbed his head tenderly, wondering how hard his dad threw the ball.

He caught the solemn look in her eye and knew she wasn't kidding. "Why?" he couldn't resist asking.

She shrugged simply as if that alone was good enough for an answer.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Everywhere. Nowhere," she shrugged again. "Anywhere but here."

"Montez, are you out of your mind. We can't just leave school?" He'll admit he was tempted to leave because she couldn't stand being in the gym another minute, but his obedient side kicked in and knocked sense into him.

She looked at him as if maybe she shouldn't give him a chance. Like maybe he wasn't worth an invitation. "Why?"

"For one, my dad is-"

"Long gone," she says. "He went into his office, looking very pissed, and won't be coming back. So you're safe."

"Well," He hadn't expected that. "Free period or not, we still have to be in school. It's the rule."

Gabriella rolled her eyes, irritated, and shook her head. "You're such a goody-goody aren't you, Bolton," she said, and then looked him in the eyes. "Sometimes, pup, rules are meant to be broken."

Those were the same words she said to him the first time they met when he caught her sneaking off to detention. They've been stuck into his head since then.

"What do you have to lose?" she challenged, walking back towards him. She held her hand to her.

Troy looked at her small hand, then up at her. At this strange, unusual girl he couldn't understand. The girl he couldn't get off his mind. The same girl who always surprises him.

Lord knows he'll get hell for leaving school. He and Lord both knew his dad would slaughter him if he left. Then he looked into those bewitching eyes saying things to him. Things he knew, things she knew, things he didn't understand but wanted to find out.

So he took her hand.


	9. Chapter 9

**ET Chapter 9: The Start of Something New **

Gabriella wasn't sure why she done it. It wasn't in her plan.

Holidays at home weren't all too horrible, but tension from the last fight with her brother when he said certain-things-that-shall-not-be-said had an effect on the dinner.

She didn't want to come back to school. She was already more than tired with East High Shit and this boring town. She couldn't focus too much in classes,feeling so restless. So when free period came, she immediately took the chance to leave.

She'd be on her way to someplace by then if she hadn't heard the noise coming from the gym. Curious, she went in to see what was going on. Caught off guard, she watched the whole thing unfolded, erupting into a huge boom when pup finally was down to his knees by the ball and his dad, steaming and bright red in anger, left the room.

It was quite something to see. "Show" might be the right way to describe what she witnessed today in gym. A show she had to stay and watch till the very end, then slowly made her move as soon as the curtains went down.

She didn't know what to think other than the whole thing brought back a string of unpleasant, preferably-forgettable memories she'd rather not reflect on. She did know, though, it shocked her. Shocked her to see pup looking so down and sad, exactly like an abused puppy barely surviving a horrible beating.

She also knew something in her, no matter how much she didn't want it to, reached out and touched her on the very sensitive spot, making her want to cheer him up.

It's funny though. The very first thing she swore to herself was she wouldn't make any friends. No attachments, no distractions, nothing to threaten holding her back.

So why did something have to hit her when she saw the shattered look on his face?

What made her want to make him feel better? To make sure he was okay?

"Penny for your thoughts?" Pup asked, interrupting her thoughts. So far, he was the only person she knew from this generation who actually used weird phrases like that.

Gabriella broke out of her thoughts long enough to glance at the blue-eyed, brown-haired boy lying next to her before returning her gaze back up at the sky.

It was still hard to believe Mr. Goody-goody, two shoes, rule-enforcer Bolton actually left school with her. It was surprising, but it did show the kid had some guts, which she admired.

Getting out of the school was one thing. Finding a ride would be the real challenge. Since her bike was being borrowed, she planned to use her Charlie card for the bus and train. Pup, however, whom she suspected never used either in his life, insisted they take his car, even though she pointed out it'd be a dead giveaway he skipped. Still he insisted and she wanted to get out of there, so she followed him to his car. A car, just as she expected, that was expensive and clean, looking like he got it only yesterday with the fresh smell that fragranced the air as they got in.

Once she gave him the directions to their distinction, the car ride was mostly silent. She had herself some more cigarettes, looking out the window and blowing out the smoke. He kept his eyes mostly on the road, though from time to time she'd feel his eyes shift to her, as if he was making sure she was really there.

Half an hour later, he parked his car in front of the park. She got out and led the way through the playground, through the meadow, up to a small clearing he never been to before that led to a huge hilltop hidden behind bushes and trees. The sun finally came up. And while it wasn't exactly bright and sunny, there was some sunshine so warm and nice. Embedded in the soft, warm grass were pretty flowers, flowers, and more flowers smelling fresh and sweet from dandelions to lilies. By the right of the hillside was a lake, clam and steay, which added more to the peaceful effect.

"Never took you for a nature girl, Montez." Troy commented, looking around the area. Turning back, he saw Gabriella walking up near the top of the hilltop and lay down. A moment or two passed before he decided to join her, making sure there was space between them.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, pup." She closed her eyes, got herself into a more comfortable position in the grass, and sighed, satisfied.

Of all the places, this had to be the last place he ever thought she'd take him to. He guessed the mall, her house, Vicznor's to work on the dancing, hell, even a bar to celebrate happy hour. The meadow was so peaceful and quiet. You couldn't hear anything except nature at it's' work. It was almost like-

"Being in a magical world where nothing can hurt." Gabriella finished his thought.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Exactly like that." He didn't know which was weirder. Gabriella somehow knowing what's going through his head or her taking him here. To what felt like her own private area. He almost felt like an intruder.

She nodded and stretched her arms over her head before folding them behind her head.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked.

She made no reply. He asked how did she know about this place, but once again she made no comment. With her eyes closed and her body relaxed, she looked like she was sleeping. But he knew otherwise; she was ignoring him.

"What's the point of bringing me here if you aren't going to answer my questions?"

"You ask a lot of questions for a pup," was all she said.

Groaning loudly in frustration, Troy flopped back onto the grass.

Once he relaxed a bit, he admitted quietly, also a bit shyly to Gabriella's ears, he loved the quiet. She soon told him in return she found this place shortly after she came to Albuquerque. She loved going to parks when she lived in New York, it followed her here. She did some exploring around the park, found this area no one probably has never been to before, and made it her spot.

"Like a secret hiding place?" She thought about it before nodding. Troy asked. "What about Vizcnor's?"

She shrugged, saying "No law saying a person can't have more than one place where they can relax? Look at the Jersey Shore cast. Every nightclub and bar is their sanctuary. With Kim K, she finds her in boys that are destined to become her exes in…72 hours. At least."

They both laughed at her joke, and Troy was treated to hearing her soft, bubbly laughter up close in person.

"Can I ask you something?" he said.

"Aren't you already doing that?" He shook his head at her, choosing to ignore her smart-mouthed questions.

"I'm being serious," He looked her in the eye and asked. "Why haven't you asked or said anything about what you saw back in the gym?'

Gabriella knew what he was talking about. She knew he was waiting for an answer. How she was going tell him was proving to be a challenge.

She concentrated on the sky and finally said "It's not like my place to demand a story you aren't ready to share. Some people may be like that, but I'm not one of them."

The craziest thing was he believed her. This wasn't the first time she seen him in his not-so great moments and always never said anything. Like how she saw the scars, courtesy of dear dad, when he came to the dance studio and only moved onto dancing, like it wasn't a big deal. His respect for her, this strange girl, deepened.

That could be what made him what to tell her about her brother, a very sensitive subject people barely breathed a word about for the past five years. It made no sense because it was a subject he hated to talk about, be reminded of, and or reflect on. But something inside him was pushing him towards him to ignore old wounds and just tell. And so he did.

"My brother, Mike, was everything. In one word, he was perfect. It was even everyone's nickname for him because he was the definition of perfection. He had perfect looks, perfect grades, was the perfect basketball captain. Everything and anything needed to be done; Mike was always the person to do with such perfection and style. I should have been pissed about that, right? Pissed about having a brother so perfect, no one notices me?"

He didn't wait for her answer and continued. "Maybe I should have been," he shrugged. He couldn't even look at Gabriella, not wanting to see anything resembling sympathy. It stung the first time around when his entire family looked at him-or barely looked at-during the awkward Thanksgiving dinner. It would be ten times, a hundred times more badly if it came from a stranger. "Honestly, in another life, I probably would be, but I wasn't. Other than being perfect, Mike was great at being supportive. Just being there. He always there for me. He was my protector, my best friend, and my role model. Everything I ever wanted to be. Then he died. My parents were torn apart, especially my dad."

Gabriella listened attentively as he went on while he was half-presented in the reality and half-lost in his memories.

"They were so busy with their grief; they forgot they still had another kid. Not that it mattered to them. I was always least important to them. Fast-forward to years later, they're still buried in grief but finds ways to deal with it. My mom with work, my dad…by trying to make me him. Problem is we both know I can never be _him_, which is why he always gets so mad. Half the time they, mainly my dad, give a vibe that screams the wrong kid died."

To her credit, Gabriella didn't flinch or looked a bit surprised. He guessed because she somehow felt like that by someone else.

He told her how Mike was everyone's favorite cousin, nephew, and, of course, son. Because Mike was so great and Troy so wasn't, he was invisible to everyone and was known as the second Bolton as oppose to Perfect, easily forgettable.

"I try to make up for what happened, to be my own person, but I don't even know who I am. Even when I try to do well in everything from my 4.0 grade point average to my skills in basketball, I'm still invisible to my parents. Nothing I ever do will matter to them. To this day, I'm still living in Mike's shadow."

When he finished, Gabriella took in a deep breath as she shook her head and let it out slowly, taking in all she had been told. "I think I know how it feels to be unwanted."

Puzzled, Troy raised his brow questioningly. Gabriella didn't look at him but did elaborate.

"I never knew my father. I don't know his name, where he is, nothing. Nada. There are only two things I know about him: I got half my Filipina genetic makeup from him and I'm a product of a one-night stand. My mother wasn't very useful about information because she barely remembers that night. All she knows was some dark-haired guy was hovered over her and she was beyond stoned. She doesn't remember anything else."

_Hot damn_, he thought. Somehow he had an idea her house life wasn't that great, but didn't imagine it was like that. Not knowing what your own parent's like was unbelievable. Troy may not like his father, much less love, but at least he knows what he's like.

Gabriella continued on, either not noticing or plainly ignoring the look in his eyes as they watched her. She knew it was pity, a thing she absolutely hated above all things. "Almost the same story with my brother. His dad may have stuck around longer, but he bailed as soon as she found out she was pregnant. He may have an asshole, but at least he was smart, though. Leaving as soon as he could."

She had a smile on her face as she breathed a cold, bitter-like laugh to herself. An odd smile that was almost pity-like, bitter, and amused all rolled into one.

"His dad?" Troy asked, confused.

"His dad," she nodded and explained more. "My brother and I are half siblings. One mother, two different fathers. Or sperm-donators, as we like to call them."

_Oh_, Troy mumbled in his head.

"She didn't keep us because she wanted to. She had to. She barely had enough money to get by, much less enough to get rid of two unwanted brats. '_Brats_' was her favorite name for us. Brats, unwanted and unneeded, she was cursed with, and reminded us constantly how if she had the chance, we'd be aborted in a heartbeat. I remember once, when I was three years old, we were all at the park. I was on the swing and fall hard onto the ground. I was bleeding, my knee was really banged up, and she was sitting on a bench smoking, watching me. She didn't come to me, didn't cuddle me, or didn't comfort me. She looked at me, covered in dirt with my bloody knee, like I was dirt itself. She just sat there and watched me, waiting for me to cry. I knew she was disappointed when my brother immediately came over to help me and I didn't cry the whole time. But I fully understood then how very little she cared about us. I understood then how much she _hated_ me. How much she hated us."

Troy was baffled. At three years old? At that age, from he remembered from his childhood, a kid's completely innocent, too young to know such a thing. But for Gabriella, that was the age she knew what she and her brother meant to her mother: nothing. Not only did she not care about them, but she hated them.

"Jesus…Gabriella…I don't know what to say." As lame as that sounded, it was all he could say. What else could anyone say after hearing that?

Gabriella shrugged, as if she didn't except anything else. The entire time she spoke, she kept her eyes on the sky while her voice was flat, as if she wasn't talking about her life but someone else. He also noticed how she didn't address her mother as mom, used the term mother only once, and mostly referred to her as she, showing much mother-dearest meant to her. Or how very little she meant to Gabriella like how she and brother meant very little to her.

Troy knew he should say something, something else because he didn't know what to say. Half of his conscious told him he should tell her her mother had to have some sort of care for her kids. Because she was her mother. She had to have clothed them, fed them. But then he realized he'd be such hypocrite if he said that. After all, his dad never made it no surprise his own conception was a less than welcome surprise. Gabriella's mother seemed like a female, possibly dark-haired version of Jack.

"You didn't have to tell me that." he said once he found his voice.

"I know," she nodded while she shrugged like it was no big deal. Then she turned to him and gave him something neither of them thought would ever be possible. She actually smiled at him, a soft and small smile that made her look even more beautiful as it did this morning. When she smiled at the other guy. "But I wanted to."

Despite the memory of her and the guy and their moment racing through his head, Troy couldn't resist smiling back at her, seeing her smile.

It then dawned to him they were alone, completely alone for the first time in weeks since their first dancing session. They were lying close to each other, he realized. They actually opened up to each other. And she was actually smiling, looking so beautiful. Whatever would have happened the last time or was about could easily happen again if he leaned in closer to her. It was that easy.

But could he do it? Would that make him an asshole if he kissed her after they shared a very rare, very real moment? Would she even let him if he did? Troy thought hard about it.

Gabriella knew that look. She had seen it millions of times with boys who'd give anything to have a moment to be with her. He was no different. There was the obvious lust in his eyes he couldn't hide, but the intensity behind it was deeper than what she was used to, which tipped her off.

"You wanna kiss me?" Although she already knew too well, she still wanted to hear it.

Holy Crap! His cheeks aflame in mortification, and, while he was kicking himself repeatedly for being so obvious, he cleared his throat and answered as dignified as he could "Someday, yeah."

Despite the blushing, he managed to be his usual, serious self as he answered. That was interesting to Gabriella.

_What the hell?_ She shrugged to herself. After she sat up, she turned her body completely toward him, leaned forward, and waited.

Troy sat up, too, and gulped.

It would have been too easy for him to do it. To lean forward and finally do what he has been dreaming of for weeks now. She was beautiful, different, tempting, and gave him permission to do it. But…he remembered about the guy she rode with. The one she hugged, smiled at, laughed at, and kissed. Even though Gabriella was the definition of temptation herself and despite every being in his body urged him to forget about it and kiss her, he couldn't ignore his morals. He may not like mystery boy, but did have some respect not to make a move. He wasn't the type of guy to kiss another guy's girl and wouldn't start now.

"I can't," Gabriella stared at him like he was insane. He knew he was, because a huge part of him kicked him hard for not doing it. Still he couldn't. "It's not right. You may do shit like that, but not me. Besides I'm actually doing you a favor. You'd only feel like shit in the morning if you dove right in."

When he saw the look in her eyes, he hit himself hard in the head for saying the last part. Those words sounded so much better in his head than out loud.

She managed to kept her face calm while her eyes were anythung but. Gabriella wasn't an idiot; she could easily read between the lines. The look she gave him was one of the darkest, coldest stares he ever saw in his life. A hundred times worse than his dad's stares that not only frightened him, but had him trembling when he looked into those eyes. "Think I'm a slut or something?"

It was hard to talk and not appear scared by those frightening, hard eyes, but somehow he was able to say something. Taking in a deep breath, he forced himself to meet those eyes. "Call me crazy, but no. I don't think you're a slut. In fact, quite the opposite. Unlike the other tramps in East High, you barely do anything and still nearly all the guys in school want you. I'm just saying you shouldn't sell yourself so short."

For the first time since they've been meeting, he actually said something so shocking Gabriella had no words. She honestly couldn't believe he said that. It was the first time in the longest time anyone said something remotely close to that. She didn't know what to make of it.

She looked away for a moment, and then returned her gaze back to him, her eyes steady and firm but still frightening in a way. Troy's body tensed as those eyes watched him, waiting for…something, even though he had no idea what to expect. He did kind of insult her, although it wasn't his intention. He thought maybe she'd swing a punch at him, slap him across his face, or shoot back a remark bound to crush him.

Gabriella kept her eyes locked on his, leaned in towards him, and kissed him.

On the left cheek, close to his lips, with her lips that were every bit as firm and soft like they were in his dreams. Then slowly she pulled back.

Approximately three seconds later.

Those three seconds had to be the longest seconds of his life. It seemed to go on and on forever, and he was paralyzed all throughout, unable to think. Once her lips touched his skin, powerful electric shocks shot through his body, coming together to burst into one blast. When she pulled back and looked at him, her intoxicating scent brutally assaulting him, he fought every urge to pull her back in and kiss her properly on the lips.

She smirked at him knowingly, like she knew exactly what she done to him and loved it. "You said someday you might kiss me. But it doesn't mean the someday rule apply to me kissing you, pup."

She got up and walked back to the car, not looking back once to see if he was following behind because she already knew he was.

He did. Wit his hand holding the cheek that had the chance to feel her lips, his mind jumbling with too many thoughts while his heart was racing with every step of the way.

_Dear God help me_, he thought. No matter how hard he tried not to, no matter how much he didn't want to, what he thought would never happen actually happened. _I've fallen for her. _


	10. Chapter 10

**ET Chapter 10: Confusion, Obsession, or Both **

_No matter how hard he pulled, they refused to obey him, practically mocking him by tugging more into his skin and causing pain. He tried the ones holding his wrists, then the ones holding his ankles, but they refused to budge. _

_With a heavy, defeated sign, Troy laid his head back onto the pillow._

_He was trapped, whether he liked it or not. Handcuffed to the bed, with nothing covering his body except the warm air caressing against his nudity. _

_The room he was in reminded him of the ones in those old, classic movies his mother were addicted to, where the room matched the heated intensity of the two characters before lips clash against each other and clothes are being tore off. Where he was in, the walls were painted in different shades of crimson, the color of seduction. Candles, in various shapes, were lit around the entire room, giving off a very sensual vibe that made chilled shivers run down his spine. The bed was large, twice as large as a king-size bed, and softer than anything he ever laid on before. The silken, satin red bedding brushed against his skin, and his hands were tightly cuffed to the headboard and his ankles to the bedpost, preventing him from moving far without causing strain. _

"_Don't worry, sir," Troy looked up at the door, where a tall man hidden in the shadows said to him. From what Troy could see, he was dressed in a classy suit and a strange smile on his face, but he couldn't see much. "She'll be here soon. And I promise you, it will be an _unforgettable_ time."_

_Although Troy was hesitant, his body reacted differently. His penis, suddenly coming alive, became hard at the sound of the word. _

_The mysterious man, whoever he was, vanished by the time he looked up again. Troy stared at the doorway, where he stood, confused. Why shouldn't he worry? What did he mean by unforgettable time? Who was she?_

_An instant later, the answer to the third question was solved as soon as she walked through the door. Her heels' clanking against the floor with every step she took was almost as loud as the pounding going on with his heart. _

_She stood in front of the door, looking down at him, and his gaze traveled upward. The classy black stilettos made her legs endless. The ruby red silk kimono robe with black lace barely covered her thighs and hugged her every curve. Her jet black hair was once again pulled into a tight bun. Her ruby-red lips smirked at his trembling form. _

"_Pup Bolton," Gabriella took a long draw of her cigarette and blew out a thick cloud of smoke, turning him on with the slowness of her movements. "We meet again."_

"_Good God help me-" She placed a finger in front of her lips, and he was quickly silenced. Satisfied, she put it down. _

"_You thirsty, pup?"_

_Hesitantly, he nodded. She brought out a bottle of ice cold champagne, walked to his left side, and then poured more than half of the bottle onto his chest. _

"_Shit!" Troy yelped. It was so cold, it nearly burnt him._

_Putting the bottle down on the nightstand, she cooed him like he was a baby and joined him on the bed, straddling his hips. _

"_You poor baby," She leaned over and kissed him on the corner of his lip. It was a deliberate move meant to tease him, which he hated so much but also made him want her even more. "Let me clean it up for you."_

_She kissed him down from his chin, neck, and her lips crawled onto his chest. She licked every sip of champagne off his body; sucking every drip into her delicious mouth and running her silkily tongue off his skin. All whilst groans of pure torment mixed with pleasure emerged from Troy, growing louder and louder with every suck and lick. _

_By the time she finally pulled back, Troy was trembling madly, sweating, and completely turned on with a _hard_ hard-on. _

_Gabriella took a sip of the champagne and dropped a lazy kiss on his lips, the deliciousness of the champagne mixing with the sweetness of her mouth. Brushing her tongue against his, Troy felt a rush of addicting adrenaline, and moaned against her mouth. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and let this moment last forever, but with his hands restrained, all he could was watch helplessly as she pulled away. _

"_It's so fucking hot in here." She fanned herself. First, she undid her bun, letting her flowinghair cascade down her back. Then she slipped off her robe, revealing all 5'4 of goddess. _

_Amused by his speechlessness, she took another swing of champagne, some getting into her mouth while most carelessly spilled onto her chest. Drips glistened as they rolled down her skin. _

_Troy wanted to lick every drop off. He tried to grab her, but the handcuffs held him back. He groaned loudly in frustration. _

"_My poor little pup," she teased. "You look like you killed anything for a taste." She held her left breast, brought it up to her lips, and licked off every drip, keeping her laughing eyes on him. _

_Dear Christ! Troy tugged helplessly on the handcuffs, his penis hard and brutal than ever. She was going to be the death of him. _

_Smirking, Gabriella dropped her breast. Her fingers danced across his chest, trailing down. She deliberately skipped over his member that was begging for her attention, and settled on his thigh, stroking him gently. "Are you a virgin?"_

_Troy gulped nervously. She saw the answer in his eyes, and there was a wicked gleam in her eye that matched her smile. _

_Taking her hand off his thigh, Gabriella laid him completely flat on the bed before she successfully slide into him. She didn't flinch or gasp. "Move with me, pup."_

_She nearly pounded him into the bed with her powerful, strong thrusts, each one hitting him more powerfully and hard than the last, making him yell out her name in torment mixed with pleasure. After a minute or two of enjoying the pleasure, he almost immediately brought it right back to her, moving perfectly in sync with her and watching Gabriella threw her head back in complete ecstasy. _

"_Christ! Gabriella, I'm coming!"_

"_Then come with me! Fucking come, pup!"_

_He could feel it! It was coming, coming hard! Gabriella tightened her hold on his chest, her scarlet nails digging deep into his skin and nearly drawing out blood. _

_The moment their bodies merged, a loud, ear-piercing scream belted out from Gabriella as she threw her head back. _

"Fuck!" Troy shot up from the bed so quickly; he nearly fell off the bed. He quickly held onto the bedpost, his completely covered in sweat, his breathing loud and hard almost as the pounding of his heart.

After a minute or so passed, his heart beat returned to somewhat normal. He slowly lay back on his bed, his eyes averting up to the ceiling. Memories of the dream flashed through his mind, turning him on again almost instantly and making his hard-on hard as a rock.

Dear Christ! Dear Christ! Of all the dreams he had about her, this one definitely took the cake. He could still feel the kiss, her tongue licking the champagne off his skin, and their bodies coming together.

Troy had to take slow, steady breathes to calm his rapid heart from bursting out from his chest.

_I've fallen for her_, he thought. It was the ten thousandth time the thought came to his head, and it baffled him just as it did the first time.

Troy wasn't sure when it happened or why, because this was the last thing he needed right now. All he knew was, for one reason or the other; he liked Gabriella, Miss Hot 'n' cold, lone wolf, ET Montez.

Obviously he had a few crushes before in his life from Laker girls to pop stars, models, and even Sharpay, for about ten seconds when he noticed how good she looked when they were in middle school. Yet all those crushed quickly faded away. This was different. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about her. It was as if his mind refused to not to think about nearly every second of the day when he wasn't thinking about, and flashed racy, desire-filled images and thoughts across when h did think.

And those images, as well as the dreams, were getting so vivid, half the time he couldn't tell if he was waking into a dream or up from a nightmare.

Also he didn't know what to do.

Before, the hardest thing for think to do was try to block her out. Now, not only does he have to keep doing that, but fight every urge to grab her and take her right there. Not to mention the fact Gabriella has changed.

Well…not exactly changed. Besides being partners in a class and practicing for their project, they usually didn't run in the same circles. He was constantly surrounded by people; she scared them off with her evil eye. He stays attentive in every class in the front row; she sulks and wished it to be over in the back. He tries to keep his perfect image; she doesn't' give a shit what anyone thinks about her, often shrugging off the rumors swirling around about her or ready to punch a person who dares stare at her the wrong way. He was light; she was darkness. He was normal; she was an ET.

_Guess the saying opposites attract doesn't only apply to magnetic forces_, thought Troy, lightly smacking his hand against his forehead and lowering it back.

He remembered what happened at the meadow. How he actually, in the first time in almost six years, told the truth about her. Or least, half the truth. How she didn't look in pity or sadness like she was trying to understand, but with honest, clear eyes that showed she really did get it. How, in return, she also told him a bit about her family life, which sounded so similar to his. And, in the end after he passed up the opportunity to kiss her, she shocked him by kissing him instead, leaving him even more confused than before.

Troy hesitantly pressed his hand against his left cheek, shivering as membranes of the pleasure tingling through his skin as her soft lips touched him replayed in his head. It was so unbelievable how one kiss on the cheek could make him feel this way. And also, it scared him. Because if that was only a peck on the cheek could do that, he couldn't' imagine what it would be like to actually feel her lips on his.

When Monday rolled around again, his nerves were on overdrive. It was the first time in almost two months Gabriella had shown a side to him he never thought existed. He didn't know what he should do. Should he persuade her? Find some way to get to know her better? Try to see if that kissing offer hasn't reached an expiration date?

Only he never got a chance to find out, because she didn't come. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. Two weeks came and gone, and there was no sight of her. Troy couldn't lie when he said he wasn't worried about her.

By the time she came back, arriving five minutes late to homeroom and ignoring the stares, Troy almost looked up the second she came into the room, as if he could feel her presence before she came. Relief swept through him when he saw she was okay, and there was a small hope in him she would meet his eye, with those bewitching yes speaking more things he wanted to find out.

Soon, though, the hope burst into sneer disappointment. Gabriella walked into the classroom, took her seat, and wrote in that notebook of hers during the three minutes in homeroom before leaving at the ring of the bell. Not once did she ever look up at him. Or at Chemistry class, or in Calculus or Creative Literature. Or in any classes during the next few days, making it perfectly clear whatever happened with them at the meadow clearly ended.

Troy knew he shouldn't care at all. If she was going to ignore him, then fine, let her. He knew, if he wanted to, there were thousands of girls who'd love to be with him, Gabriella can could fuck herself if she didn't want anyone getting close to her...or find someone to do the honors.

_Jesus._ Troy smacked himself hard on the forehead, shocked by his thoughts.

What was it about Gabriella he couldn't help being drawn to, besides the obvious? Why was she so distant? What was with the wall she had around her?

Could it because of her mother? Troy thought back to their time in the meadow, remembering how she spoke of her mother with as little feeling as possible. Having a horrible mother would be more than enough to build a wall, but...something told Troy there was more to the story.

Frustrated, he got out of bed, went over to his computer, and opened a Google Chrome browser. Once done, he typed in two words into the search engine, hoping he can find something.

_Gabriella Montez_

* * *

><p>"You look like shit." Sharpay commented.<p>

Troy peeled his eyes away from his locker stuffed with heavy textbooks and binders to the sparkly pink blonde hovering over his shoulder. He sneered at her, baring his teeth like an irritated animal before shutting his locker hard, attracting the attention of nearby students, and walking down the hall.

Sharpay amazingly caught up with his stride in her six inch high heels, and Troy felt her eyes examining his appearance. He knew he wasn't looking his usual best. His hair was more bed-crazed, hurricane-blown crazy than his usual boy bed hair. His eyes were blood-shot blue, as if he spent the whole night drinking, and still had guck caked around the corners. His Ralph Lauren long-sleeved shirt was unbelievably crinkled because he forgotten to hang it the night before and didn't have time to iron. There was a huge gaping hole on the left knee of his favorite jeans he didn't notice before. His blue Jordans were untied.

The style was so unlike him, Sharpay wondered if today was Opposites day.

"Correction, you _really_ look like shit," She smiled at the dark glare he shot her. "So rough night?" Troy nodded hesitantly. "What have you been up to?"

_Oh, you know, Sharpay. Thinking about a girl who's going to ruin my year because she's constantly on my mind, I kept seeing her everywhere, and having hot dreams about her that still turn him on whenever I think about her. And last night, after having the hottest dream about her, I was desperate to find out more about her and what makes her tick, I spent more than six hours finding everything I could about her. Which turned out to be useless because there wasn't much about her._

Christ knows Sharpay would lose it if he told her that. He already had enough teasing from his friends because he was partners with her. If he told her he actually tried finding out more about her through the Internet, it would be a huge field day for East High.

"I had a rough night," was all Troy had to say.

He hated the mischievous glint in Sharpay's eyes that matched her smirk. "Does it involve a certain new Latina and you doing the deed in bed?"

Troy stopped for a moment as the dream flashed through his mind. Gabriella entering the room in her robe that barely covered her thighs-or anything, pouring champagne on him that she licked clean before pouring the rest on herself, and pleasing him as well as tormenting him-

"Fuck off!" he harshly said to both Sharpay, who wouldn't drop the topic, and to his dirty mind that refused to let him forget about the dream. His little friend was getting bigger by the memory, and he could only hope Sharpay was too oblivious to notice.

"Hold up," She grabbed his arm, stopping from taking another step, and stood in front of him. Her amused smirk turned into a small, sincere smile. "Listen, I was only kidding. I'm just trying to bring back my nerdy jock who's been AWOL for weeks now."

Troy frowned at her for another second before a small smile crept onto his face. Sharpay may be a huge pain in the ass and a drama queen, but she was also one of his best friends he loved like a sister. She sure was hell annoyed him like one.

"Look, Shar, I'm sorry. I just have a lot on my mind right now. A lot of shit actually." That was the understatement of the year.

"Is it about your dad?" she asked. Troy tried hard not to groan. First Chad, now Shar? Not every problem involves his dad.

"First off, no," Amazingly. "Second-"

It suddenly hit him, and a big smile spread across his face as he stared at his face. He wondered why he didn't think of it before.

Sharpay Evans was practically the school's own Gossip Girl. She was the one who can easily find dirt on anyone, the one to go to confirm or deny if a rumor was true, and knew everything needed to know about anyone. If for whatever reason, she didn't have the information herself, she used her resources and minions to find what she needed.

There was a good chance she could know or find about more about Gabriella.

"Hey, Shar, what do you know about Gabriella Montez?"

She arched her thin eyebrow suspiciously, but didn't question him. "Not much," she shrugged. "There are, like, millions of rumors about her, and I can tell you for a fact none of them are true. Even the one that's really Vanessa Hudgens twin sister, although, I have to admit, she really does look too much like her."

Not exactly what Troy was hoping for. "But what do you know about her?"

"Not much," she repeated, shrugging again. "She's a total mystery. All I know is that she comes from New York City, she likes to read, and….she basically hates people. Oh, and I also wished I could take a tour through her closet. She has really amazing style."

Troy rolled his eyes. Again, that wasn't what he was hoping to hear. So he tried a more subtle approach. "If I asked you to do some...background check on her...what would you say?"

Sharpay stared at him with wide eyes and a mouth agape, before letting out an extremely loud, ear-piercing squeal that sounded more like a bloody scream.

This was a reaction he expected from her. But that didn't mean his ears were bleeding from the sound, along with the other students in the hallway crouched down with their ears covered.

After she spent a good thirty seconds squealing, she pounded him with questions. "What do you want me to find out? How much do you need to know? Why do you even want to-"

There was only way to shut Sharpay up when she was on a roll: smacking your hand hard against her mouth and keeping a firm grip on her while she struggles. Several failed attempts later, she calmed her herself down.

Releasing her, Troy said "One question at a time-"

"Do you like her?" Sharpay demanded.

"No." He answered too fast, realizing it made him look even more suspicious.

"Don't bullshit me, Bolton. I know a good liar when I see one. Since first grade, you barely glanced at a girl, and now you want me to dig up info on the new girl. You can deny it all you want, but I know the truth. I bet you even have dreams about her."

Troy tried his hardest not to keep his face neutral, but, feeling the warmth rushing to his cheeks, knew his blush immediately gave him away. "I…it's not-I'm not….Look, are you going to help me or not?"

Sharpay rolled her eyes in an exhausted, "duh" fashion. Like she'd ever pass up a chance to find dirt on the new girl everyone's fascinated with. Including herself. "You worry about your precious GPA, your ass of a dad, and basketball. By Friday, I should be able to get the goods."

After a few more minutes of integrating, Sharpay headed off to French class while the Troy headed the opposite direction, to the library. He needed to do more research on Don Jose to find out more about him.

Walking around a corner, he immediately saw trouble in the hallway. A dark-haired, pixie-like sophomore tripped over a girl's foot and crashed on the ground.

"You stupid, spazy bitch!" yelled the girl whose shoe sported a new smudge. The damage to her shoe was more important to her than the girl's twisted, bloody ankle.

Inching closer while making sure he wasn't seen, Troy saw the yelling girl wasn't just any bitch, but Heather Homes, queen of bitchness.

Heather Homes, Miss Popular since kindergarten, was insanely wealthy, threw the most insane parties at her mansion, and East High's head cheerleader as well as co-dance captain. With her Rachael McAdams gorgeous face, straight blonde hair so blonde was nearly sun bleached white, and Victoria Secret model body, there was no doubt about it she was the hottest girl in school. Yet as pretty as she was on the outside, Troy knew firsthand that was the only thing remotely positive about her. She had no empathy in her black soul or any warmth in her heart, satisfied when she ruined someone's reputation, making her every girl's worst dream.

Gawking at Heather's shoe were her two best friends- minions as everyone likes to call them-Gwen Davis and Amanda Fallen. The three were categorized as mean, meaner, and meanest with Amanda being perfectly mean, Kristin in between mean and horrible, and Heather being the queen of all three.

It was no secret that behind Gwen's dedication to the queen bee, there was unmasked envy. Whatever Gwen does was always second best compared to Heather, who loves being the first in everything, which was why Gwen loves her best friend as well as hates her. She was also very pretty, too, with her chestnut hair in tight curls, hazel brown eyes, and slender figure. But she was the loud-mouth of the group, knowing everyone's secrets like Sharpay but using them to her advantage, and always had her two Blackberry phones ready whenever she needs to spread a rumor. It also didn't help she was too dramatic and was too paranoid.

Amanda Fallen, huge gray-eyed, honey-blonde, wasn't a huge loudmouth like Gwen or extremely bitchy like Heather. In all fairness, she was…well, not the smartest girl Troy ever met. That was putting it lightly. To get right to the point, she actually made Jason, his very lovable but dim-witted friend, look like Albert Einstein. She's say the most random things and asks the most ridiculous things that made a person's skull crack, has the annoying bubbly laugh that makes ears cringe whenever they listen to it, and put the term "air head" to a very high extreme. Troy remembered in freshmen year when they were in history class together, she needed his help spelling 'B'.

"Heather, she like, totally ruined your Prada flats." Amanda stated the obvious, making Troy roll his eyes at a very typical Amanda expression.

"No shit!" Heather exclaimed.

Gwen quickly pulled out a tissue, got down on one knee, and quickly wiped Heather's shoe like an obedient servant. "Don't panic. I'm sure we get new ones after school."

"There are no new ones! Do you not realize these were the only pair the store had left?"

"I'm sorry. It was an accident-" The small girl slowly got herself up, but was knocked back down on her face by the hard force of Heather's slap.

"Sorry?" Heather growled, towering over her. She stomped onto the girl's hand, slowly smirking at her pained cry. "Wait till I'm done with you, bitch. Then you'll really be sorry."

Like obedient followers, Amanda grabbed the girl's hair hard, nearly pulling it from her scalp and forcing her to sit up. Gwen stood in front of them with her Blackberry zooming in on the action, ready to capture the moment.

"This is so going on Facebook."

Everyone thought Troy's perfect match would be Heather or one of her friends because they were rich, gorgeous, and popular. But there was one huge difference between them: Heather and her clones lived to spread pain and torture while Troy couldn't stand someone being hurt. And wasn't going to waste another second standing around.

Someone else, though, beat him to it, calling attention to herself as she snapped a picture with her phone and strode into the scene.

"Well, well, well," Gabriella said. "What do we have here? Three bimbo bitches harassing a student. Now, I definitely feel like I'm in Mean Girls."

"You stay out of this, Montez!" Heather snapped. "Before I'll have my daddy deports your immigrant ass back across the border."

Amanda snickered. "She'll probably sleep with him so she can stay. I heard she made much more money here than she did back there."

Amanda giggled along with her friends before turning to Gabriella, who remained unfazed. "Isn't that what your kind is good for anyway? Whoring yourselves out?"

"Why don't you ask your boyfriends? I'm sure they can tell you how good I was," Dark, fiery hatred blazed in their eyes, but Gabriella went on. "As for screwing your daddy, Blondie, I'm sure Twiddle Dumb and Dumber have that covered."

Heather lifted her foot from the girl's hand, leaving behind a nasty bruise, and walked slowly to Gabriella. Gwen and Amanda stayed close by her side, looking just as pissed as Heather.

"_You're dead, Spic!_" she growled, her voice low and venomous.

Gabriella rolled her eyes at the threat, calm and cool. The bravery she displayed both baffled Troy but at the same time didn't surprise him. Heather may be inches taller than her and had sharp nails for weapons, but Gabriella was the type of person who probably taken don girls three times her size back in New York.

Rumor has it she was a tough gang member, whose fists were deadly weapons you didn't want to meet.

"I'll tell you what. How about you bimbos say it to mu gun?" She showed off her bag and patted it.

"Are you saying you're armed?" Gwen went from vengeful to fearful in less than a second, trembling.

Ignoring her question, Gabriella said "You have till the count of five to beat it before bullets start flying."

"What?" Amanda shrieked.

"Don't listen to her," Heather demanded. But it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself more than her friends. "She's bluffing, Montez."

"Five," Gabriella began.

"I don't think she's kidding, Heather!" Amanda grabbed onto her arm, and Heather shook her loose.

"Four," Gabriella opened her purse.

"You do realize there's only so much plastic surgery can do." Gwen covered her new nose she recently had done, her third this month.

"Three," She struck her hand inside.

"You're lying!" Heather yelled.

"Two," She slowly pulled something out.

The girls quickly ran down the down for their lives, screaming at the top of their lungs.

Behind them, a huge bang went o, thundering in the hallway. The timid freshman ducked down and covered her head. Even Troy backed away, bracing himself.

No way, Troy thought three seconds later, hearing nothing but silence. Silence so thick, it was almost as bad as screaming. Gabriella was reckless, but there was no way she'd do that. There was no way she'd actually bring...

When Troy slowly came back out to the corner, he expected to see a smoking gun in Gabriella's hand and a smirk on her face. She was smirking, but there wasn't a weapon in her hand.

Unless you counted her Bic lighter as a weapon.

Wow. Troy felt like the world's most gullible idiot, in the whole universe in fact. His eyes darted down, seeing the heavy textbooks scattered on the floor.

At least expected the loud noise.

"One," With a click of her lighter, Gabriella chuckled to herself. "Idiots."

The small freshmen, once she got up, hesitantly made her way over to Gabriella and helped her gathered her books. Watching the older girl pack her stuff back inside, she said in soft, timid voice that went perfectly with her innocent features. "Thank you. For saving me."

Gabriella didn't acknowledge the gratitude. Instead she studied the girl with narrowed eyes from her straight, dark brown hair, wide-set brown eyes that made her look even younger, her dark tan skin, and her small 5 foot frame. "Name?"

"Dorinda. Dora for short."

Nodding, Gabriella waited till he girl slowly moved out of her way. Over her shoulder, she said to Dora "Don't worry about those bimbos. Believe me. After Principal Matsui sees the video and picture I took of them, they won't be bugging you for a while."

_Unbelievable._ Troy watched her go.

When Gabriella scooped her long, black hair over to her right shoulder, he caught a glimpse of her angel/devil tattoo.

He wasn't sure if he was seeing things, but could have sworn it, mainly the angel side, glowed like bright onyx with every step she took.

**AN: I know, I know. It's been way too long but I have my reasons. I was too busy with studying and taking the SATs', trying to get everything together for school, and applying for scholarship. I have to warn you it's going to a while before a new one comes up, but thank you guys so much for the reviews, favoriting, and subscribing. And again if you have any ideas feel free to tell me. **


	11. Chapter 11

**ET Chapter 11: Perfection…Shattered**

"_Maria! Maria!" The more he yelled the name, the louder the knocking became. At first she thought she was simply dreaming. Then, refusing to open her eyes, rolled over to the other side of the bed, as if it could offer her protection from the sound. She finally resorted to putting a pillow over her head, trying to ignore the knocking and yelling coming from the super. _

"_Maria!" Mr. Adobo's voice was nasal and hoarse, curtsey of his six packs a day diet. "It's June 12th and your bill is way overdue. This is the thousandth time you've done this and I'm sick and tired of this shit!"_

_June 12th? Bill overdue? Quicker than a bullet, Gabriella shot up from bed and raced to the bathroom. Tip-toeing over the bras, panties, and dirty towels, she kneeled in front of the sink cabinet, opened it, and searched for the box of laundry detergent she kept hidden in the back. _

_Please let it be here. Please let it be here, she prayed to God, although it didn't take away the bad feeling growing inside her gut. _

_And the horrible feeling was confirmed. The whole six hundred and fifty dollars she spent weeks collecting, taking up every shift available at her jobs to get, was gone. _

_Bile rose up to her throat. She could feel her body was shaking in… anger, shock, both? She didn't know. _

_All she knew was Maria done it once again. _

Fucking Hell!_ Rage washed over Gabriella, and she found herself drowning in it. Her hands were already clenched into tight fists before she could control herself, crushing the empty box in her hand. She had to bit down her tongue to keep herself from screaming and risking Mr. Adobo hearing her. _

_Fuck, she could feel hot tears rushing to her eyes, stinging them and threatening to escape. She bit her tongue down harder and clenched her fists tighter. There was no fucking way she was going to cry, especially at a time like this. _

_For months Gabriella had to pay more than her fair share so they could keep a roof over their heads while the hell-hound bruja let her money go to waste. She had to hide the money because the witch was getting desperate and going broke. She was so sure she hid it well. _

_Clearly she was wrong. _

_Cursing at Maria, Gabriella tossed the box in the trash and went to her room. Stripping off her night cami and boy-shorts, she changed into a red thank top and denim shorts she found lying around, not even bothering to fix her messy ponytail. She grabbed her keys, her shoes, and then climbed out her window, to the fire escape. _

_She knew exactly where to find her mother. _

_Four blocks away was the Night Spot, a huge nightclub famous for its unlimited supply of strong drinks and loud music, where party-goers, prostitutes, dealers, and drunks go to escape the world. _

_Stepping inside, Gabriella was immediately bathed in the neon blue light coming from the headlights surveying all over the place. Due to its' name, the Night Spot was done in a night fashion; pitch black walls and polished floors, huge over head lights shining neon blue light blue lights all over the place. _

_The place was _packed! _Bodies pressing tightly against one each other, giving observers a show on the dance floor. Dealers slyly handing over the goods in one hand to the customer and accepting a wad of cash in the other. People surrounding the bar, chatting with their friends or the bartenders, asking for a refill after they gulped down their drink. _

_Gabriella's eyes scanned over the crowd, seeking a certain face over the sea of faces. Finally she spotted the familiar raven hair and curvy figure on the third floor and went up. It was just as crowded up there as it was down there, but it was somehow less noisy since everyone was mostly talking around and taking shots from the bar. _

_Near the glass railing were a small group of people sitting around on the black and blue velvet furniture. In front of them were empty and half-full glasses of vodka with a large bottle still half-full. A guy who looked like he was in twenties and had long, purple-dyed hair was knocked on the love seat, his head dangling uncomfortably off the armrest. On the opposite side, seated on the recliner with his feet up was a bored-looking Latino in a black fedora smoking. Straddling his lap and kissing his ear was a leggy, busty-chest blonde in a strappy red mini dress that looked more like lingerie. In the middle between them, sitting alone on the couch was a woman in s tight, black strapless dress and shiny black leather knee-high boots with five inch heel. _

_She had deep black hair that was straight and shoulder-length, olive-tan skin that was once flawless now bruised with a few scrapes and marks, and dark brown eyes that were glassy. She reached over for the bottle and took a huge swing, nearly finishing the whole thing. After that, she moved onto two full cups of olive martinis she gulped down in a second, had a few pills she pulled from her "chest", and ate the olive. _

_Dear Mommy dearest. _

"_Gabriella," Maria put on a pleasant smile on her face as she saw her daughter approaching. Unsteadily, she stood up and reached in for a hug. _

_Gabriella pushed her away, once again sickened by the thing supposedly called her mother. Taking one look at her glassy, blood-shot eyes and smelling the heavy liquor from her breath, she knew Maria was seriously drunk-and high off whenever she snorted into her nose. _

"_Did you spend it all?"she demanded, crossing her arms against her chest. Maria may want to put on a show for them, but there was no way Gabriella would follow along. _

_Maria's smile lost it charm for a moment as she realized she was caught. Once again. She still wore her pleasant smile and held onto her wrist, pulling her close to look like she was a good mother. All for show. Leaning close to Gabriella's ear, her cold voice whispered to her "I highly suggest you cool it and calm down."_

_She squeezed Gabriella's wrist extra hard for emphasis, nearly crushing her bones. Gabriella shook her off and resisted the urge not to wipe her wrist against her shorts, to clean herself from Maria's touch. _

"_I'm not going to fucking cool it," she said through gritted teeth, trying to keep her cool together. "That was our rent money. Money we needed to keep a roof over our heads. Which you spent on crack! What the fuck is wrong with you, Maria?" _

"_I needed a little pick-me-up," Maria protested. "The whole week has been nothing but one bitch of a headache."_

"_The whole seventeen years with you has been nothing but a goddamn bitch of a headache. Unlike your weak self, I force myself to deal with it _and you_. Now, thanks to you, we're once again broke and need rent money."_

_The guy in fedora stood up before Maria could reply. By the smirk on his face, he seemed amused with the drama episode unfolding in front of him. "Now, come on, girl," he said to Gabriella. "I read somewhere frowning can lead to wrinkles. It'd be such a shame to see a pretty face lose its' charm. Just ask your mother."_

_Maria was hurt by his words and looked away, running her hand through her hair. _

_Gabriella recognized the guy as Carlos Dunvas, the dealer of her neighborhood. He had the best drugs that could make a brain and body go completely numb for hours. He also wasn't bad-looking either. Good height, in his mid- thirties but still looked like he was in twenties, a nice body, and a good-looking face. However, she also knew he has a nasty temper that can quickly explode like a short fuse to a bomb. He had a gang of thugs who "handled" customers that didn't come up with the money. He was also a totally creep. Gabriella was beginning to notice how he watched her with a strange, prey-like look in his eyes that her feel violated. _

_Especially now as his eyes went from her face to the low, scoop neck of her tank top, revealing a bit more of her ta-ta's than she would have liked. _

_Chuckling to himself, Carols snapped his fingers, and the blonde-his new tramp of the week-handed him a lit joint he took a hit of. He titled his head back and blew the thick, musky smoke into the air before smiling charmingly at Gabriella. "Besides, Maria has a lot more to worry about than rent money. She owns me eight hundred dollars for the Columbian coke. And also an additional two hundred for the heroin and another hundred for the marijuana."_

"Eleven hundred dollars?_" It was no secret Maria lately has been drowning in debt. Gabriella had no idea she was drowning that deep. _

_She whirled around to Maria, who avoided meeting her eyes. Gabriella reminded herself repeatedly not to take an inch closer toward her, no matter how tempting it was, because she knew if she did she would kill her. "You owe eleven hundred fucking dollars?"_

"_Carlos," Maria turned to him, reaching for his shoulder. "Now really isn't the time."_

_He shoved her off him and knocked her into the chair, tossing her away like she was trash, without taking his eyes away from Gabriella. "Don't worry your pretty little head over nothing, Gabriella. Your mom has found a way to pay off her debt. But if you want in, I'm sure we can work something out."_

_Before she could tell him what he could do with his offer and where he could stick it, Carlos held a loose strand of her hair that fallen out of the ponytail and toyed with it, curling it around his finger and tucking it neatly behind her ear, taking his time to make sure he touched her skin. Gabriella could barely remember a time she felt so disgusted and violated till now. His touch was like lice creeping up her skin, but ten times worse. But there was no way she was going to let him know he could get to her, so she forced herself to remain still. _

_Gabriella's eyes snuck a peek at Maria, who barely paid attention to what was going on, and had herself another drink. There were a few things about her appearance she was beginning to notice: her hair disheveled, her fiery-siren red lipstick smudged, deep purplish hickeys on her neck, and she had no bra on. Gabriella then turned back to Carlos, already figuring out how Maria was working off her debt. _

"_So what do you say, Gabi?" he asked, taking another hit of his joint and another step closer to her. "Be a good daughter and help your mama out."_

_Gabriella had to smile at the irony of his sentence. He was telling her to whore herself out to help mommy dearest out of debt. Problem was she wasn't anyone's daughter, less of all Maria's, and Maria sure as hell wasn't a mama. She didn't even deserve the term mother._

"_It's her bill, her problem. Not mine. So the whore can handle her own shit." Gabriella told him, and then headed downstairs, without looking at either of them. _

"_Oh yeah!" Maria yelled behind her. "Let me tell you something, you worthless brat. If I burn in hell, I'm taking you down there with me. Do you fucking hear me?"_

_A scatter noise crashed besides her. From the corner of her eye, Gabriella saw the shards of glass Maria threw at her. It missed her head by an inch. _

_Still, though, she refused to look back. _

Gabriella woke up with a slight start, snapping her eyes open and checking her surrounding in a daze. The floor covered with clothes, clothing hanging out of the shelves of her dresser, her favorite posters hung on the wall and collages, her Disney Princess doll collection. She was back in her room.

In Javier's.

She slowly sat up in her bed, wiping the beads of sweat off her forehead. She hadn't realized how much the dream affected her until she was aware how tight her fists were clenched.

Unclenching them slowly, Gabriella took in slow, deep breaths.

_Calm down_, she told herself. It was just a dream.

Well, actually, it was more than a dream, but that didn't mean she'd dwell on it.

"You okay?" She looked up and found her brother standing in her doorway. How he had been there, she had no idea.

"I'll be fine." she murmured.

"You sure?" He watched her closely.

Gabriella looked at him, her older brother who may be half her blood but cared for her and raised her like any full-blooded father-type brother would have. Half the time, it seemed like they were full siblings because they had similar traits: dark brown alluring eyes that changed to black, depending on their mood, same deep black hair. Because he pratically raised her from the time she was a day old, they were pratically synced like twins. She knew him better than his best friend or even Anita. He knew her better than anyone.

Which was why when Gabriella looked away from him and didn't answer his question, he nodded, walked into the room, and joined her in the bed.

Javier pulled her blanket over their heads. Before she could help herself, Gabriella curled up against him, as if there were some part of her that was waiting for the moment. She laid her head on his chest, and he securely wrapped one arm around her.

"Our magical tent," he smiled. Gabriella didn't return his smile, and soon his faded. "Everything is going to be okay, Ella. Okay?"

She looked at him for the longest time, feeling such a strong sense of déjà vu. In that moment she was split into two, one half remembering what he done that was unforgivable and other remembering the countless times they were under their tent.

"Okay." Before she could help herself, the word came out of her. It was so easy to say.

He nodded and pulled her close to him. She nuzzled close onto him and closed her eyes.

It was funny to her. Who would have ever guessed all she needed to feel asleep peacefully was her brother close to her and the two of them under their tent?

The next morning, at early dawn, Gabriella was up and dressed for work. Javier was up as well, playing a game with Paco. He asked his son where a body part was, Paco would point, and sometimes he'd get it right. So far it looked like he was doing well.

"Okay, Paco. Where is daddy's nose? Can you find his nose?"

The baby stared blankly at his face, and then a smile broke across his face as he pointed at his nose.

"Very good," Javier praised, smiling at his son's enthusiasm. "Now you can nose? Say nose."

"Nose." he repeated proudly. Even though Randy was going to kill her for arriving late, Gabriella stayed behind to watch.

"Now can you nose in Spanish?" A blank look appeared on Paco's face, and his dad quickly explained. "Nose. Nariz."

"Nar…nar…" When he couldn't get it, he burst into tears.

"Hey, hey, hey," Javier lifted him up in his arms and set him down on his lap as he sat down on the couch. He kissed his forehead and wiped away the tears, waiting patiently until Paco calmed down a bit before he spoke again. "It's okay. Now let's try again. Say nariz."

"Nar…nar…nariz."

"You got it!" Javi whispered excitedly.

"Nariz! Nariz! Nariz!" Paco clapped excitedly, back to his cheery, giggling self once again.

"So, now you're a Spanish teacher?" Gabriella asked her brother, walking in. She took Paco out of his hands and lifted him over her head, spinning them around the room. They both laughed as they became dizzy.

"Anita's very serious about Paco learning Spanish early." Her brother explained.

Gabriella arched her left eyebrow and smirked at him. "Did she threaten no more sex unless you teach him?"

Javier chose not to answer, but she saw the truth in his slightly still form and the way he looked away for a moment. When he turned back, he took his son back.

"Where's Anita?"

"At the bridal shop, then will be taking over the night shift at Helen's. So she won't be back until after two tomorrow morning. And I have to be at work by four."

Gabriella nodded, already knew where this was going. Javier worked as mechanic at Good Year that was in downtown. Anita had two part time jobs working as a seamstress at Perfect Fit, the bridal shop on Wayward Street,near Starbucks and a waitress at Helen's. Sparing her brother from wasting any more of his breath, she said "Drop Paco off at Starbucks around four or so. I get off work by five. Thank Jesus."

* * *

><p><em>He was gone. <em>

_With shaky legs, ignoring the fact that my action was useless, I followed him into the forest. There were no footprints, the leaves still again, but I walked forward without thinking. I could not do anything else. I had to keep moving. If I stopped looking, it was over. _

_Love, life, meaning….over. _

_Oh, so sad_, Gabriella thought, reading the passages from _New Moon_, the second book of the popular vampire saga, _Twilight_. Poor Bella described the incredible, world-shattering heartbreak that hit her with the depature of her beloved Edward. Sighing, she then shut the book and dropped it onto the floor with no hesitation. _What bull_.

Vivian, a fellow Starbucks employee and book-worm, noticed Gabriella reading _Wuthering Heights_ a few weeks ago during her break and rushed over to her table, her enthusiasm hitched to overdrive. "Oh my god! You read?"

"It's practically my life." Gabriella replied absently, her mind half on Vivian and the other half focusing on Heathcliff's and Katy's tragic love affair. It was so unlike any other love story, where the both main characters had more flaws, were more human than fairy-tale like, and soon became another classic favorite of hers.

"Mine too." Gabriella lowered the book a bit and peered up at the pixie-like, excited girl standing besides her.

As it turned out, Vivian wasn't so bad. Annoying? Sometimes. Preppy? Too much for Gabriella's liking. But she reads almost as much Gabriella and was crazy about reading, where they managed to find common ground. Occasionally the two would chat about books, gave recommendations on books they thought the other would like, and traded books.

Last week Gabriella loaned Vivian _The Book Thief_, her third favorite book, and _Before I Fall_. In return, Gabriella was given Vivian's entire Twilight saga because Vivian was convinced a bookworm like Gabriella needed to read the books.

"Believe me, girl. By the time you're almost done with the first, you won't be able to stop reading until you reached the end of book four. Of course, you'll also be too busy picking whether you're team Edward or Jacob?"

_Unlikely_, Gabriella thought. One glance at the book and she knew she'd go through it like a death march. And she was right. She barely made it through the first book and couldn't finish the second one.

There were only two reasons why Gabriella guessed Vivian was so crazy abut the books. First reason: Alice Cullen. The cheery vampire physic who was practically Vivian's twin sister. Same height, same looks, except for the golden eyes which differed with Vivian's green eyes, and definitely the same cheery personality Gabriella couldn't handle. Second reason, in two words: Jacob Black. More specifically picturing Taylor Lauther and his gorgeous abs in every scene the werewolf was in.

The second reason was the only reason Gabriella miraculously made it through the first book, but even a gorgeous Lauther couldn't make her any more of the books. If it wasn't for the movies, which boosted the books' publicity from nonexistiant to popularity, then not even the most love-crazed romantics would read it.

She reached into her bag and pulled out _Perfect Chemistry_, the other book Vivian gave her. It was a Romeo and Juliet romance book that was _way_ better than Shakespeare's normal version. It was simply more because, unlike the play, the two main characters couldn't stand each other in the beginning and their love story slowly developed once they gotten to know each other. The main characters were another reason why the book was so good. The Juliet of the story was Brittany Ellis, the seemingly perfect head cheerleader, who was the golden girl of her school and used that image to keep people from getting a glimpse of how bad her life really was. Romeo taken a form in a tough, Latino gangbanger named Alex Fuentes who had his own demons to face.

"Don't ask me why," Gabriella looked up at Vivian, and then glanced down at the book cover. A pretty girl lying flat on the ground, her blonde hair loose. The guy above her holding her cheek and looking down at her. Her eyes were closed peacefully, and she touched his arm. There was a cool black star tattoo on his hand Gabriella considered getting. "But I had a very good feeling you would really love this one."

Reason: According to Vivian, Alex Fuentes reminded her too much of Gabriella when she first read it. Gabriella suspected it was probably because of their Hispanic background and his bad boy-ness was similar to hers.

Reading the book again, for the tenth time, she could somehow see there was more than what Vivian mentioned.

"What do we have here?" piped a voice near her. "My favorite Latina trading in a sparkly vampire and hot-head werewolf for a Latino gangbanger? Poor shame, Gabi. That is discrimination and prejudice."

With her eyes still focused on the book, Gabriella's hand crept over to the left, balled into a tight fist, and pounded as hard and loud as she could against the counter. When she heard his winces and curses, she smiled to herself, pleased.

"God damnit! Gabi, you bitch!" Robbie winced, pressing his hand against his head that was laid on the counter, where it had been resting as soon as he came to work. "You're a huge bitch, you know that. _You bitch_."

Once again, without looking at him, Gabriella pounded her fist against his throbbing head. This time closer to his ear and twice as hard. Her smile widened as she heard his loud voice. "The correct word is _bitch_. And proud of it."

His response was a loud, long moan of pure torment.

They have been filling orders, making coffees, and dealing with customers for over three hours. And were sick of it. Gabriella would rather sleep all day or dance at Vicznor's, figuring out more moves for the Carmen tango routine.

Still, she was better off than poor Rob. Last night they went to the Underground, hanging out with a few of Rob's friends and partying till three in the morning. Gabriella stayed mostly on the dance floor, where she danced to practically every song the DJ played, and had a few hookups here and there. Rob also got some action, too, dancing his ass off, and scoring on and off the dance floor. Not to mention, he had tons of drinks. Vodka, martinis, rum, beer. If he didn't get it in cans, he got in bottles. If not bottles, then shots. If not shots, then in flasks that were being passed around.

Gabriella supposed she should have stopped him after his sixth or seventh shot of vodka mixed with rum, but there was no stopping Robbie once he had his liquor. Now, since he did the crime, he has to do the time, working a full shift with a massive hangover.

She asked him "Why do you suppose God intended for people to work on Saturday?"

"Because Sundays are his days." For that smart ass remark, she smacked on his temple before pounding her fist again. Wincing, he stood up slowly, with his hand still pressed against his head; he said "Simple. Man was created into two groups: the rich and the poor. The rich are the lucky ones who never have to worry about money, because they have an endless supply of money to spend. The poor, whom sadly includes you and me, are forced to work our fingers to the bone, hoping to increase a small fraction of what we make already to survive."

Gabriella nodded, agreeing. There were in fact some customers who defined rich. A businessman sitting by the window, typing away on his laptop, dressed in a thousand dollar suit and expensive Rolex watch to go with it. A group of college-looking girls clustered together near the shelves dressed in Gucci and Prada-branded clothes. The owner to the expensive, familiar black Lexis parking in front of the café she couldn't see.

Why does that car looks so familiar? Gabriella wondered.

"And now, fellow music lovers," said Ryan Searchest from the kiss 108 station that was blasting from the overhead speakers. "Time to spice up the radio waves with some Latina flavor. Shakira."

_It's not her fault that she's so irresistible  
>But all the damage she's caused is infixable<br>Every twenty seconds you repeat her name  
>But when it comes to me you don't care<br>If I'm alive or dead_

The music filled with the café. Some customers were moving their bodies along to the music while continuing on with their activities. Gabriella, herself, even swayed her hips as she took some orders. She turned, stunned, to see her hung-over friend was dancing as well.

"Dude, you have a hangover." she reminded.

Robbie made a disgusted sound with his throat. "Let that has ever stopped me from dancing."

Proving his point, he placed his hands on the counter and stood up straight, before flipping over the counter and landing perfectly in the middle of the shop. With everyone's eyes on him, he turned back once to wink at Gabriella, and then started to dance.

_So objection! I don't wanna be the exception  
>To get a bit of your attention<br>I love you for free and I'm not your mother  
>But you don't even bother<br>Objection! I'm tired of this triangle  
>Got dizzy dancing tango<br>I'm fallin' apart in your hands again  
>No way I've got to get away<br>_

The way he was moving, it was like he didn't drink a drop of alcohol all night, performing a solo tango perfectly and adding some hip-hip moves into the mix.

The crowd cheered for him, snapping some pictures or recording it on their cameras. Gabriella applauded, laughing as she cheered him.

_Next to her cheap silicon I look minimal  
>That's why in front of your eyes I'm invisible<br>_

Many girls held out their hands as he swept across the room, hoping to be his partner. He flirted his way through the girls, giving him his signature smile and wink, charming their hearts. When he caught Gabriella's eye, he left his admirers behind as he salsa his way toward her, his hand out.

_But you gotta know small things also count  
>You better put your feet on the ground<br>And see what it's about_

She stared at him for a moment or two, then, with a smile, nodded. Gesturing him to move back a bit, she climbed on top of the counter and, without hesitation, jumped into his arms. The people went wild, cheering loud.

_Objection! I don't wanna be the exception  
>To get a bit of your attention<br>I love you for free and I'm not your mother  
>But you don't even bother<br>Judging the angels of this triangle  
>Got dizzy dancing tango<br>I'm fallin' apart in your hands again  
>No way no, no, no, no<em>

As Robbie spun them around, Gabriella quickly changed her position, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his torso, letting her body fall back gracefully as he dipped her low.

_I wish there was a chance for you and me  
>I wish you couldn't find a place to be<br>Away from here_

Once he let her down, Robbie, keeping his hands around her waist, caressed the bare skin available to him as he leaned in closer, but Gabriella pushed him away, refusing to let him play her again. Baffled, Rob watched her go before he refused who was in charge and the master of this game, grabbing her hand again and tangoing with her.

Each time Gabriella tried pushing away from him, the seductive player had a trick to make her stay longer. Twirling her around, he brought her back to him, her back pressed against his chest. He guided her hips with his hands, the two of them swaying together, as he took his time running his hands through her body, feeling as much as her clothes would allow. Letting out a small sigh, she titled her head against his shoulder, exposing the nape of her neck he imprinted lingering kisses upon. She allowed herself to fall for it again, his tricks and charms, to give into the temptation she couldn't get enough of.

Looking up, she noticed him sneaking a peek at a cute high school chick with flaming red and a nose ring. She scowled to herself, and soon smirked, realizing two can play this game.

_This is pathetic 'n' sardonic  
>It's sadistic 'n' psychotic<br>Tango is not for three  
><em>

Gabriella managed to return Robbie's attention towards her as she grinded her hips against him, rubbing against his erection nice and slow, smirking at the trembling response she was getting. Completely under her control, he leaned in close, as if he were ready to kiss her.

_Was never meant to be  
>But you can try it, rehearse it<br>Or train like a horse  
>But don't you count on me<br>Oh don't you count on me boy_

_Objection! I don't wanna be the exception_  
><em>To get a bit of your attention<em>  
><em>I love you for free and I'm not your mother<em>  
><em>But you don't even bother<em>  
><em>Objection! I'm tired of this triangle<em>  
><em>Got dizzy dancing tango<em>  
><em>I'm fallin' apart in your hands again<em>  
><em>No way I've got to get away<em>  
><em>Get away, get away, hey, hey, hey, get away<em>

She cupped his face, leaned in, and kissed the corner of his mouth, teasing him by deliberately missing his mouth. Then she pushed him away, knocking him down to the floor, done with him and his womanizing. With a sweet kiss and a smug smirk curled on her lips, she blew across his wave, and then she dismally flipped her hair and sashayed away. Letting a dazed Rob stunned as she managed to free herself.

_I'm fallin' apart in your hands again  
>Get away<br>I'm fallin' apart in your hands again  
>Get away<br>Get away  
><em>

Laughing, Gabriella went back to help Robbie up. The two held hands as they took their bows, accepting the applause and cheers. And accepting the nice tips customers handed them in person or left in their tip jars.

"Never would have guessed the day a girl would manage to free herself from me." Rob told her playfully. Gabriella half-heartedly rolled her eyes.

"Don't get cocky, Rob," she warned. "You're not all that."

"Oh really?" Gabriella did not like the devilish glint in his eye as he took a step closer to her. And could little to brace herself as she found herself entangled in his arms again, being dipped low, and Rob covering kisses all over her face, making her laugh out and at the same time want to punch him.

"Rob, you gilipollas!" she said between laughs, trying to be serious even though the giggles refused to stop.

"You know you love me," He kissed her on her nose, her cheeks, and finally her lips, where he kissed her the longest, igniting a loud yells and cat-calls. "Tell me you love me."

Giggling, all she could do was swiftly turn her head away back and forth whenever he would come near.

"Gabriella?"

Her laughter ceased as she heard her name being said by a familiar voice. She opened her eyes and looked up, seeing Bolton standing in front of them, his blue eyes glancing from her to Rob and back again.

"Pup?"

"Hey." he said a moment later.

Once Robbie pulled her up, Gabriella stepped away from him and studied the boy. She couldn't be sure, but he looked upset for some reason. Almost pissed. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought I might get myself some coffee." he said, glancing her way, then quickly returning his eyes back on Robbie, his expression hostile and eyes hard. "Unless you two are too busy."

Gabriella frowned at him. What was hell was his problem?

Robbie, on the other hand, looked more amused than insulted by the boy's rudeness. He placed his arms around her waist, leaned in close, and whispered with a teasing tone in his voice "Gabi, you have a new novio. And you didn't tell me? Or is he a new socio para follar?"

"First off, cállate_!_" She couldn't believe he would actually say that, even though her friend was known to have a very dirty mind. And she couldn't believe the smile tugging on her lips refused to go away. Especially as he rocked her back and forth, tickling her sides. "Second, vete a la mierda_!_"

"You offering?" he asked in his overly done, made for chuckles, sexy voice that cracked her up every time she heard it.

Gabriella would have told him "You wish", but decided to elbow him in his gut, making sure to get him hard enough to shut him up. As she walked back to the counter, with pup behind her, and he went to the back room to grab more napkins, she made a mental note to herself not to teach Robbie any more Spanish. It was more than enough he said nasty things in English, she couldn't let her do in her native tongue either.

"What do you want?" she asked Troy.

_You_. It immediately popped into his mind before he could control it. His cheeks aflame in mortification.

Just as she promised, Sharpay came over to Troy's house last night with the goods. He was a bit doubtful during the week she would find anything, because his own research turned out nothing. Gabriella had no Twitter, no Facebook, and there were one too many Gabriella Montezs to search for in the Internet. But Sharpay found out more.

Gabriella's old high school in New York City was LaGuardia Arts, one of the top best performing arts school he knew enough from Sharpay and Ryan it was an insane school to get into. She got an audition thanks to her ballet teacher, who had connections with the school, and won a full-time dancer scholarship to the school. Unsurprisingly, she was one of the best dancers in the school, hailed as a Shakira in the making with a free-spirit style of Debbie Allen and the passionate fierceness of Paula Abdul.

On the school's website, there were thousands of pictures and videos of last year's spring showcase. The theme was a dedication to the King of Pop. The most viewed videos were of dance numbers that included Gabriella. From a distorted zombie in Thriller, an Egyptian slave in Remember the Time, and, Troy's favorite, the vixen Suzie from Blood on the Dance floor ready to seduce and kill.

Troy found out she started dancing young. Not only dancing, either, but was actually part of a dance company, a rather famous one that traveled all over the world every summer and performed amazing numbers, since she was seven. The directors (and also choreographers) behind the troupe were Madame Natalia Groski, a famous Polish ballerina, Bruno Tonioli and Len Goodman from Dancing With the Stars, and the Debbie Allen. Because all four came from different style backgrounds, the dances the troupe did was basically everything from ballet, modern, step, tango, flamenco, and others.

_So this is the famous Madame Groksi_, Troy thought, eyeing a picture of the woman standing next to Debbie. It was hard to guess her age, possibly between late thirties to early fifties, but she was dramatic looking with her crimson hair and dark eyes that warned no foolishness.

Sharpay burned a DVD of the company's two hour performance in Italy, which they watched in his room. The music was amazing, the energy coming from the dancers and musicians was definitely there, but it was Gabriella he couldn't take his eyes off of. In every number she was, she shined like a star. The way she moved, completely letting go and losing herself in the music, was like nothing he ever seen before. And Sharpay, who had her mouth drop till the screen went black.

Gabriella did a graceful ballet to a rendition of Beyonce's Halo and Seal's Kiss by a Rose, partnered with a tall African American guy who looked about a year or two older than her. The two were intimate and loving in every gesture, smile, and step. She looked beautiful, with her raven hair tied into a high bun and a white rose clipped in the center, dressed in a pure white ballerina costume with a powdery white tutu, shiny pointe ballet shoes, and a bodice with silver and gold sparkling stitching.

Troy wished he was here. Throughout every performance, there were millions of amazing shots he would have taken and developed.

Besides her school and the company, there were other facts Sharpay found out.

Her favorite color was red.

She won every prize in writing at LaGuardia, proving she had more than one talent. For plays, poems, and short stories. Some even got published in the New York Times that received amazing reviews from the readers.

She was also a beauty with a brain. To Troy's shock, she scored an unbelievable 1920 on the SATs', seventy points higher than him and amazingly twenty points higher than Taylor's.

She worked at Starbucks on Wayward Street.

Other than that, there wasn't much to go about her.

"Jesus, Shar," he mumbled at five o'clock in the morning, rubbing his eyes hard to keep himself awake. Their butts have been planted on his couch all night, their legs long past fell asleep. "Who is this girl?"

Sharpay yawned first, loudly, into her fist and absentmindedly scratched her hair, trying to straighten it as she shook off the tiredness. She shrugged at him and said "She's…just her. She likes keeping a low profile."

"No shit." He murmured, more to himself than her.

"Why do you like her?" Sharpay asked. "Not be rude or anything, but it really is surprising. In the twelve years I have known you, Troy, I know you never fallen for a girl like this. What makes her so different from the others?"

It was the question he couldn't answer right away because his brain was full of mush and tried to process what he learned and saw. Despite the lack of sleep it received. It was also an answer he didn't come up with, even after Sharpay left. All he knew was it wasn't enough. Sure, he knew more facts than before, but it wasn't enough. There had to be more.

Gabriella told him yesterday they wouldn't be able to rehearse because she had work, and since his brain was dead tired he thought maybe some strong coffee would wake it up. He figured he might as well go to Starbucks. And if Gabriella happened to be there, then maybe something would happen.

Troy realized, sitting outside his car and watching the commotion Starbucks, he made an error. He didn't think things through, which he does before anything else, and gone on impulse, which backfired on him.

What was he suppose to do if he saw her? What would she say? What would he say?

Forward to later, he finally found his courage to go inside. He had nothing to worry about, though, because Gabriella didn't notice him. She was too busy dancing with a co-worker. The guy had his arms around her, touching her and holding her close. She grinded against him, letting him kiss her neck and other places, enjoying the show they were giving. She even let him kiss her on the lips in front of everyone, giving birth to the nasty jealous monster growing within him that wanted to pull her away from the guy and punch the living hell out of the guy.

When she finally noticed him, this time he was the one barely paying attention to her. He was busy focusing on the guy whose arms were still wrapped around her. The same guy, whose eyes were unreadable as Gabriella's, wore an amused smirk on his face as he glanced back and forth between him and her. He was around Troy's height, maybe a few inches taller, broad-shouldered, and looked fit.

Troy wondered if he was the same guy who rode Gabriella to school that day. Her boyfriend?

"Bolton!" After the fifth or sixth time Gabriella snapped her fingers in front of his face, he was taken out of his thoughts and brought back to the present. For a moment he was dazed, wondering what Gabriella was doing, until it dawned to him he was suppose to be ordering instead of daydreaming and holding up the line. She looked impatient and pissed, just like the other twelve customers behind him. "Are you going to order or what?"

"I need my coffee now!"

"Move it or lose it, buddy!"

"Hurry up already!"

"Um," Troy said, his eyes quickly scanning the menu. "A caramel iced frappuccino."

Nodding, Gabriella typed in the order into the cash register. "Anything else?"

You, his mind repeated louder, but Troy silenced it. "Um," He glanced at the treats on display. "Two loaves of the marble and a cinnamon roll."

He handed her his black American Express card, she fixed his coffee and snacks, and he was handed his order.

"Next." she automatically called out.

Troy sat down at a small table near the continents station. While he drank his iced coffee and ate his snacks, he kicked himself repeatedly for being such an idiot. Why was it every time she was near him, common sense flew out the window when he needed it the most?

In between bites and sips, Troy glanced back at Gabriella, watching her deal with a dozen more customers. When everyone was all set and no one else came up to her, she took out her book and picked up where she left off. He decided it was time to make his move.

"Hey." he said, approaching her slowly.

"Hey." she replied, paying more to the book than him.

"So, um, can we talk somewhere else? In private?"

She then glanced up at him. Her eyes not hard, but curious and firm, searching into his like she was trying to find something. Turning back, she cried out "Rob, cover for me. I'll be back in ten."

Grabbing her bag, Gabriella led him through the back way, outside the alley. She sat down on a milk crate left behind by a lazy employee, lit a Marlboro, and took a long drag, letting a stream of smoke escape from the corner of her mouth.

Leaning against the brick wall, Troy watched her smoked, fascinated. "How many packs do you smoke a day?"

"One, maybe two," she shrugged, taking another drag. "Depends how stress I am."

"How do you get them?"

She shrugged again. "Through my brother and other sources."

"Right." He nodded, and silence fell between them.

Gabriella, with a shake and sigh, broke it by tossing her cigarette to the ground and stomping on it to ashes. Standing up, she wiped her hands on her jeans, looked up at Troy, and said "Bolton, I know you didn't come all this way to discuss my smoking habits. Why are you here?"

Troy was taken back a bit by her forwardness. She didn't waste time. "Okay. What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Sleeping." she answered.

He frowned at her, which brought a half-smirk to her lips. "And?"

"More sleeping."

"Cute," he remarked. She fully smirked and acknowledged the comment with a bow. "Okay. Since you're working today, I was wondering if maybe you want to rehearse tomorrow."

"At Vicznor's?"

"There or," He silently cursed the bone-dryness that suddenly came upon his throat. To make matters worse, two patches of bright red colored his cheeks. "We can rehearse at my house."

She arched her eyebrow; that was as much as a surprise reaction he was going to get from her. Troy quickly explained he had nothing planned for tomorrow since all his homework was done, his mom was in New York on business, and his dad would be watching the game at a friend's house.

While he spoke, she never took her eyes off him, her gaze intense, which made he nearly choke on every word he said. "Alright." she said when he finished.

For a second Troy thought he heard her wrong. But seeing her steady, unblinking eyes he knew otherwise. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." she confirmed.

Inside Starbucks, Troy wrote down his address on a napkin, along with his house and cell phone number, and they arranged for her to come around ten.

"You know what, pup? When you asked me what I was doing on tomorrow, I thought you were asking me out or something." she said.

Troy's heart stopped as she said those words. He quickly ducked his head, avoiding her eyes, while feeling hers watching him. "I-um-Can't. I'm focusing on my grades and basketball. Don't have time for distractions."

With his friends, he had no trouble telling them his goals. With his family, his parents seemed pleased, if you counted his mom typing away on her Blackberry and his dad reading the paper as they both nodded pleased. But with Gabriella, an uneasy feeling came over him. The words sounded hollow, flat, and made him sound like a nerd with nothing better to do.

Gabriella nodded, uninterested. She stuffed the written napkin and got back to work. Troy watched her go, then cried out "If I did, would you be interested?"

She slowly turned back to him and smirked, increasing the volumes of her beauty and reminded him of the exotic dreams where she wore that smirk. "Considering the fact, I don't date…that would be a no."


	12. Chapter 12

**ET Chapter 12: Perfection Scattered (continuation)**

A huge six story house stood in front of her.

To say that it was a mansion would be an understatement. It was way too big to be considered a mansion. The way it was sized and by the huge height, three to four gigantic mansions combined together to make a humongous house that could fit thousands of people seemed about right.

The house looked like it belonged on an episode of Cribz. It basically defined the term of "luxury". Each floor had balconies with a hammock and summer table set. The roof was a wide sun deck. Double door garage showing off a dozen of expensive, brand-new cars she could only dream of owning. A huge basketball court by the left. A huge swimming pool in the back. The huge front porch was wide, about twenty lengths with fancy steps.

"Jesus." Gabriella murmured to herself, kicking the stand to her bike and pulling off her helmet. _Dear sweet Jesus_, she thought, taking her time going to the front door as her eyes glanced around the house. You could fit all the apartments and the buildings in her block and there would still be enough more to fit a thousand more.

By the time she approached the front door, someone who must have heard her motorcycle and seen her staring opened the door for her. He was middle-height black man with whitish-gray hair, wore a pressed black suit, and reminded her of Jeffery from _the Fresh Prince of Bell-Air_. She had a good feeling this butler might be just as proper and sassy as he was.

His black eyes scrutinized her, inspecting her. Gabriella met his gaze with a full-force hard glare, crossing her arms against her chest. She didn't know what he was looking for, but knew there was nothing wrong with how she looked. Her hair was done in a loose ponytail, and she was dressed in a red cami and black yoga pants, the perfect outfit for dancing. Okay, so maybe her top was mid-bare exposing, but who honestly cared? They were in the twenty first century and nearly every girl had tops like these. Some way more wild and revealing than the one she was wearing. If this guy expected her to come in some dolled-up, frilly and lacy number with high heel stilettos, then he had another thing coming.

His gaze lingered longer on her tattoos, the Hindu flower she had on her stomach and the angel/devil one on her shoulder blade, followed by her piercings, then across her face, staring at her. When he met her eyes, he looked like he was about to say something, maybe to look more decent or remove "those things" on her face. But he sighed and instead said, with a half smile on his face, in a smooth British accent "Good morning, miss. I'm Gregory Princeton, head of household and butler. You must be Miss Montez."

"Yeah," she nodded slowly. "That would be me."

Nodding, Gregory let her inside and showed her the house on the bottom floor. Everything from the hallway that was hung famous paintings, the living room that was sleek and chic and decorated in earth tones, the huge kitchen and dining room next door that looked more like restaurants, and the shiny floors looked like it was part of a magazine. Hell, it was as if she was Alice when she was shrunken down to ant's size and everything was fifty times bigger. The rooms, the furniture, even the length of the staircase that looked like it belonged to _Gone with the Wind_.

Gregory left her alone in the living room, leaving her to explore and look around. She went to the fireplace where, placed on the top, were dozens of pictures. Most were of Jack posed with his wife, who was a very pretty woman or by himself, where he seemed most content. There were some pictures of Bolton's mother. Yet, oddly, enough, there were only two of Troy out of the two dozen. One was of him at the age of two or three looking right into the camera as the picture was taken, reaching for it. Another was of him at the age of eight or nine, basketball in one hand and a trophy in the other that read first place.

What was strange about the picture was it was the only picture both he and his dad were in, but it looked completely wrong. There was a smile on Jack's face, but was barely there and appeared force while pup didn't even bother. The tension definitely was there between them, ready to erupt.

Gabriella's eyes then went around the room, taking in the expensive furniture and décor, but couldn't help feeling weird being there. It wasn't just the fact she obviously doesn't belong here, because it was clear she didn't, but the feel of the room was off. It felt hollow, practically empty and cool like everything here was temporary.

"You came?" If it wasn't for the fact she felt his body heat near hers, she would possibly jumped if she heard his voice. She turned around, meeting Pup's unbelievable blue eyes that watched her.

"I said I would, didn't I?" she shrugged.

"Right," he nodded, clearing his throat. After an awkward moment passed, he said "Come on. Let me show you upstairs, where we have the dance studio and the gym."

Gabriella arched her brow, but followed him nevertheless. Instead of taking the stairs, they used an elevator, an actual glass elevator, to the top floor. On the way up, Troy explained each floor was broken up into six floors. The first floor, where they just were, was the living room, kitchen, and entertainment room. The second floor was the staff's quarters, implying there were more people than Gregory keeping the house spotless. The third floor belonged to his parents that had their bedroom, separate bedrooms, bathrooms, studies and libraries. The fifth floor was his that featured his room, his bathroom and library. And the sixth floor was where the gym, the dance studio, the Jacuzzi, other and more elaborate entertainment room.

She noticed he kept quiet when they passed the fifth floor, but didn't say anything about it. She knew firsthand what it's like not to talk about anything you're not ready to share.

When they reached the sixth floor, they entered the first door on the left. Inside was the dance studio that was bigger than any dance room Gabriella has ever been in. Twenty times the size of an ordinary studio, there was a ceiling air conditioner blowing cool air from above, a huge and expensive surround-sound stereo system with huge amps for speakers, the floors waxed and polished, and an actual bar with snacks and ice-cold drinks from Powerade to mineral water.

Next door, separated by a thin glass wall Pup said was indestructible, was the gym she imagined and more. It was just like the dance studio, twenty times the size of an normal one, with a full bar of snacks and drinks, a ceiling air conditioner that was still on even though no one was there, and every exercise equipment imaginable.

_Guess rich people really can have it all_, she thought, taking slow steps into the dance studio, setting her bag down.

"Is this space okay?" She looked at Bolton, who watched her even though he was trying not to make it obvious.

The studio was amazing. She knew it, and suspected he knew it, too. A question like that sounded almost mockingly, as if the person was trying to rub their wealth into people's faces. Gabriella looked at his face, but saw being snobby wasn't on his agenda. He was just being curious.

She shrugged and told him it would have to do. She then went over to the barre, lifted one leg over it, and began stretching. Once the familiar burn was running through her body, she warmed her body up with some ballet exercises. She started out with ten demi plies and then switched to grand plies. Once that was done, she switched to ten eleve before practicing the tendu.

While her left leg was slowly stretched out and sliding to the side, she stuck a peek at Bolton. He was watching her intently as if he was taking a picture of her. "You should stretch out, too," she told him. "You wouldn't want to pull a muscle."

"Oh," He blushed once he realized he was caught. "Okay."

Troy walked over to the barre, but didn't try to intimate her moves. He knew he would only look stupid and ridiculous. So he stuck with basic stretches.

"So," he said after a few minutes of silence. "You were in a dance company?"

Gabriella arched her eyebrow, but focused on her ballet tendu. She slowly stretched her leg out with her arm rose over her arm, bending backwards. "I was…and still am."

The answer surprised Troy, but he knew she wasn't going to say anything about it.

Once they were warmed up, Gabriella went over to the Mac computer-yes, an actual computer in a gym-and went to YouTube, showing Troy the best tango numbers from movies. El tango de Roxanne from _Moulin Rouge_, Mary and Joey from _Another Cinderella Story_, Pierre Dulaine and his pretty blonde partner from _Take the Lead_, and even Dorinda and Joaquin from the Cheetah Girls sequel for them to use as a practice run. After that, she showed him a video titled, Tango-Roxanne, where best tango dances followed the rhythm to the instrumental version of El Tango de Roxanne.

Troy studied every clip with intense concentration, the same he used for every school assignment and his photos. How intimate the gestures were between the partners, how the steps changed from slow to quick and back again, how nicely the man lead and woman followed in suit.

He knew there was no way he could compete with that.

At the end of the video, Gabriella switched off the computer and turned back to Troy. "If there is one very important, very critical ingredient in tango, it would have to be the passion. There always has to be passion in the tango. It's what sets it off. You need to let your body follow the rhythm of the music, but, at the same time, have heavy tension between you and your partner. You basically need to pass off the impression you two are ready to rip each other's clothes and fuck senselessly."

Troy could do or say nothing, except be shocked by her chose of words. Profanity was the least of her worries. He wondered if he was always this…forward.

Gabriella's eyes smirked at him, saying _so I don't hold back? Bite me._ Continuing she said "Tango is supposed to be both passionate and tense-filled. As if both are caught in between the choices of making love to each other or kill before they get killed themselves. That intense passion has to be there between Carmen and Don Jose when they met for the last time. All the love, anger, desire, betrayal building up in that one dance. You and I have to create that moment in the tango."

"But do you think I can do it?" he interrupted, feeling more and more unsure as she went on. Tango meant passion, passion meant experience, which he sorely lacked. The closest thing he has to experience was in eighth grade and he and Heather Homes had a very awkward seven minutes in heaven during a party happening at her house. It was a complete disaster. His mouth was practically glued shut while Heather's was wide open, her tongue wet and pushy, licking his face like a very eager, hunger puppy.

Call him crazy, but that sounded like a far cry from intense ripping-clothes-and-fucking passion Gabriella was talking about.

She rolled her eyes, but not in an exhausted, bored to tears way. More like an exhausted, how many times will they have to go through it until he's convinced otherwise? "Pup. You managed to not only completely get into the waltz, but master it in less than two months. Believe it or not, it actually takes a long time to master."

"But this is tango." As brutal as the waltz was in the beginning, he got the hang of it. By watching the best waltzes from Dancing with the Stars over and over again. Cutting back some time from his photos to practice with an imaginary partner. Practicing with Sharpay and Ryan-once he swore them to secrecy never to mention the dancing lessons to anyone-and even dance with their old dance teacher, Miss Borne, who was a short and plump version of Len Goodman. If that wasn't enough. Gabriella added an extra hour to their rehearsals to work on more advance techniques like spinning, twirling, and lifting.

"And I'm a Sagittarius," she said flatly. "You don't hear me complaining about it."

Troy was about to protest, but closed is mouth, realizing it was a done deal and he was wasting his breath. Montez was stubborn, no mistake about that.

"Now," While her facial expression gave away nothing to the argument she won, her smirking eyes said it all. 'We have two months before the project's due. That should be more than enough time to come up with the costumes, the paper, music, and, of course, the routine."

They passed their outline two days before the due date and got back good feedback. Mr. Cummings gave them an A- on it, saying it was good and off to a good start, but was missing something. The criticism motivated Troy to find out more about the play and the characters. It also motivated them Gabriella to come up with a sizzling tango that wouldn't only amaze the class, but stun them into silence.

"Why stun them?" Troy asked after they were given back the outline. They were in the library, at the computers doing some research before the teacher came over to give them their outline.

Gabriella took the paper from him, read it once, and pushed it back to him. Crossing her arms against her chest and leaning back into her chair, she closed her eyes and took in a breath. "When I mean stun them, I mean make the performance breathtaking. There's no better feeling than doing a performance that left them speechless. Makes them digest what they just saw. Take it all in. There's no better feeling than that."

He noticed she went silent as she said the last sentence, a strange look appearing in her eyes. He had a good feeling she was speaking from personal experience.

Gabriella placed one hand on Troy's shoulder, had one of his arms around her waist, and clasped their free hands together, getting them into starter's position. The spark that always came alive whenever they touched went off like lightening, quick but powerful. Troy swallowed hard and reminded himself to think only about the moves and nothing else.

She led them through an easy move: three sharp steps forward, then dip. It was easy to accomplish without a complete screw-up since she was the one leading. When his turn came though, things didn't go quite as smoothly.

He tried leading Gabriella and listening her suggestions on how to be better at the same time, but he couldn't concentrate. Instead of having complete attention on her words, his mind couldn't get over anything else but the feelings going through him. The touch of her soft skin that he never wanted to let go of, her petite and curvy figure that made him hard.

Because of this lack of concentration, Troy spun around on his heel instead of going forward and accidentally dropped Gabriella. Flat on her back. Hard.

"Oh shit." His eyes widened in shock.

Her eyes were shut tightly and her mouth was drawn in a thin, tight line, holding in the screams and curses ready to fly out of her mouth. She took her time breathing in and out, waiting until her entangled and boiled emotions were reduced down to a minimum. She opened her eyes and almost regretted it a second later.

His eyes watched her intently, scared and concerned but oh, so innocent. Eyes that were the brightest yet deepest shade of blue, she didn't know what to name them. Eyes that were so deep and intense when they looked at her, sometimes shocked and bewildered, but always curious like he was trying to see the real her. Eyes that did something to her everytime she looked into them she didn't want to think or explain. The strange something was more so like a feeling, like a flutter in the pit of her stomach. A tingle.

_Stop it, Gabriella_, she told herself.

She shook her head, snapping out of it, and got herself off the floor, ignoring the hand Pup offered to help her up. She got them into beginning position: one of her hands laid on his shoulder, one of his arms wrapped around her waist, and their free hands holding onto each other.

"Pup, I actually said nice things about you. Don't make me regret saying them," Gabriella warned, pressing their bodies closer together. Even more so than the respectively space she told him about when doing the waltz. "You're Done Jose. You follow orders and commands without any hesitation. Strive for success and perfection. I'm Carmen. A dangerous temptation you can't shake off. Convince you to shake things up and bend the rules. As long as you're with me."

Taking one step forward him, her breasts pressed against his chest, Gabriella lifted his chin up with her finger and forced him to meet her eyes. Those beautiful, dangerous, alluring eyes. She bit her bottom lip, batted her long-lashed eyes once, and a seductive smirk spread across her face. So many girls have done that move with him thousands of times in hopes of seducing him, only to get in return annoyance and disinterest. But watching her go from teacher to temptress, doing that move, Troy knew from the thundering in his heart and the desire urges shaking him he was a goner. She placed both hands on his shoulders, leaned in close, and whispered in a fluent Spanish accent that instantly turned him on "So what's it gonna be, solider? Would you rather be a chicken and follow? Or man up and take charge?"

She took her temptress act one step further by lowering her hands from his shoulders to his chest, purposely rubbing them against his nipples, which caused a tortured and choked groan to be swallowed in his mouth. While her hand stayed caressing his check, her index finger to he freed hand was pressed against his chest and drew a line down, leaving a burning trail in it's' wake that seared him.

If this was how Carmen made Don Jose feel, crazed with yearning and twisted in lust, then Troy understood why the obedient man went to the dark side.

Gabriella pulled back a bit to look at him, then clucked her tongue, and pulled away completely until there was a foot of space between him, leaving him cold and wanting to feel her warmth. Her dark eyes shone in danger and seduction. "I suppose you are a follower, pup."

She shrugged one shoulder, glanced over at him once, and flipped him off. Suddenly, before she could go over to her bag, a hand urgently grabbed hold of her forearm and pulled her back. Right back into Troy's chest. Dazed and caught off guard, she looked up at him and he met her gazed head-on.

Call it craziness, impulsion, his wild and lustful thoughts, Troy didn't know. All he knew was his mind and his thoughts of her and being with her wouldn't leave him alone. And it didn't help she had to unravel him even more. Or...maybe he did. It awakened something in him, something he somehow knew she set in him the moment he looked into those bewitching eyes, and caused it to go off. He channeled that awakening and feeling into the tango, his body intimating even step and move from the videos Gabriella showed him, and went with it.

Dipping her down low, one arm securely around her waist, Troy ran his hand through her raven hair, feeling the smooth softness that was sleek than silk, and undid the ponytail. He tossed the band aside carelessly and paid attention to the girl in his arms, looking deeply into her eyes like he was trying to unlock all her secrets.

Too bad she wasn't going to make it easy.

When Troy slowly brought her up, Gabriella grinded her ass against his cock with slow, swaying movements, smirking to the long and tormented groans he was trying to silence. Still grinding against him and keeping eye contact with him, she extended her arms over their heads, brought them down slowly, and grabbed him hands to place them on her hands. She kept one hand on his cheek while the other stayed on his right hand that held her hip. Together, they two swayed in a slow, small circle that could have gone on forever, their eyes never breaking contact and doing things to each other they would never admit out loud and could only dream about.

Gabriella then quickly freed herself from Troy to run over to her bag, pull out her iPod, and set it into the speakers. After she selected an instrumental tango song, she turned back to Troy, who watched her every move with such intensity she couldn't help smirking. Wondering how far they could go before he would crack.

She leaped and spun her way back into his arms, causing him to spin them around. Her smirk widened as she brushed her mouth against his cheek, teasing him before he set her down to her feet. With their arms wrapped around each other and hands clasped, Troy led them through the tango music with three sharp steps and a dip. They practiced continuously, dancing around the room with the song on repeat, getting better and better with each step. During the time they danced, Gabriella became bolder in her movements, breaking away from Troy but still holding onto his hand to twirl around before she was brought back to his arms, bending down low, brushing her mouth against his skin.

Troy was also starting to become more confident in himself. Confident and also more daring as well, caressing Gabriella's sides when he dipped her, leaning in close so there was little space between their faces, and even added some twirls and lifts before they started the steps again.

Twirling her once more and inhaling her intoxicating scent, urges and desires building up inside him; he dipped her low and brought down on one knee, balancing her. Troy was no longer Troy, but a heart-broken, angry-blazing, love-sick Don Jose wanting to shake Carmen hard until she was finally convinced they belonged to each other.

"Carmen," He brushed loose strands of her hair away from her lovely face, and then caressed her cheek with utmost care. He looked at his free-spirited gypsy, her dark eyes burning his with their scorning blaze of seduction and deceit. "_Damn you!_"

With the imaginary dagger he pulled out, he stabbed her in the heart. Her eyes widened in shock and pain, the light of life slowly dying out as she breathed in and out in shallow, choked breaths. Her hands fell to her sides, her body became limp in his arms and, with a gasp and limply tilted of her head, she died.

Troy stared at her, bewildered but numb. What was he suppose to feel after what he done? Joy? Satisfaction? Sadness? Despair? He didn't know. All he could do was brush back loose strands of her raven hair, drop a kiss on her forehead and two on her cheeks, and look up, hoping he would get an answer.

For a full minute, the two were still as they let what had just happen sink in. Troy was unable to believe he actually did it. He actually danced the tango. Not only that, but he kissed Gabriella-on her cheeks at least, but still. Her skin was so soft and sweet and addicting, scented with vanilla and cinnamon, and he wished he could have more. Taste more and explore. Gabriella, silent in his arms with her eyes shut, replayed what happened in her mind.

To say she was surprise wouldn't be right. '_Shock_' didn't seem enough to cover it. To make it simple, she would say she was blown away, which was a very rare reaction from her. Almost as rare as a sincere smile. All she could say she was blown away, which said much because she wasn't one who could easily be impressed. But Pup did it. He actually managed to do it. He was able to find his inner Don Jose hidden in him, channel all the intense emotions in himself, and dance.

She knew he had some rhythm in his hips, but she never expected for to go out like that.

When Gabriella opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was how close his face was to hers. His eyes a shade of blue too bright and deep to be named watching her intently with the same intense look she noticed the first time they met.

The first met she met Pup, she knew right out of the bat, besides his popularity and shyness, he was cute. In a pretty-boy, squeaky-clean, polished sort of way. The last person she ever would have considered her ideal for a guy. Now, while he still wasn't the person she'd go for, she could see he was cuter than before. More than cute in fact. Pretty good-looking with an appealing Zac Efron-like face, shaggy chestnut hair, and his incredibly blue eyes.

Her hand slowly moved up to his cheek, to protect and hold him like a puppy. Then her mind quickly (and thankfully) switched back on, preventing her from making a move that could be fatal.

"You can let go of me, pup." she said. Troy blinked his eyes once, slowly, and she could see she wasn't the only one coming out of a spell.

After she was released and freed, Gabriella walked over to the bar, sat down on the stool, and helped herself to an ice-cold fruit punch Powerade. She drank more than half bottle in three gulps and used her hand as a napkin to wipe her lips.

"Not bad, pup," she said, taking another gulp of her juice. "Not bad at all."

"Yeah?" he asked, uncertain.

"Yeah," she confirmed with a nod. "There are some things we need to work out, but other than that, I'd say that A+ is in the bag. You were really that good."

When she gave him a small, genuine smile, he smiled back at her slowly. She couldn't help but notice it was a might better look for him than the intense look he usually had on his face or the unreadable mask he wore at school. It made her feel satisfied in a way that she was the one who put that smile there, even if it was tentative and small. It also made something weird and fuzzy come over her, going off in her stomach. Weird like a warm, tingly feeling.

Gabriella shook her head and looked down at the Powerade in her hand. Did someone slip tequila in this or something?

"Anyway," she went on before the silence continued and became weird. "What you did back there, the last move when you stabbed me in the heart was perfect. It was just what I was looking for."

"What were you looking for?" He joined on by the stools, grabbing himself a Monster.

"How to fit the ending of Carmen into the tango. Don Jose kills Carmen. Traditional, the way the play has it and the way it's been interpreted, he stabbed her in the stomach. But what you did back there, holding my cheek and saying my name before you cursed me and stabbed me in the stomach was even better. We are so doing it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "It's perfect. Now all I need to do is figure out the rest."

"That's cool," he replied. "I know how we can get great music. My friend Kelsi is a great composer and a great DJ. Her music was used in a bunch of plays and musicals. She'll come up with the best music for the tango."

"Coolness." Clanking their bottles together, they toasted to their successful plan and drank to their perfect grade.

Gabriella quickly ran through her head all the things they needed to get done before Valentine's Day. Music? Check. Tango routine? Having the ending figured out, but still needed to work on the beginning and middle. So they were halfway done with that. Final paper? With the all the researching they've been doing together and individually, writing it would be a pie of cake. So somewhat getting there. Costumes? Halfway done. Which reminded her…

Glancing down at his bottom half, Gabriella looked up at Troy and asked him "How big is it?"

The very second the question rolled off her tongue, Pup's eyes widened in shock, his cheeked reddened with two big patches of crimson, and managed to spit out half of the juice he drank and choke on the gulp he took in.

Like a rocket, he shot up from his stool and jumped back a few feet from her. As if she had some contagious disease he didn't want to be anywhere near. He was still choking as he asked "Wh-wh-what?"

_What the hell?_ Gabriella raised an eyebrow at him. "Pup, as entertaining as that was I'm not getting any younger here. I need to know how big it is. So tell me already."

If she thought his face was red before, it was the shade of bright crimson now. His eyes were so wide; they nearly bulged out of its' sockets like some kind of cartoon character. She was surprise they didn't fall out.

"Do you always ask people these kinds of questions?" he demanded, crossing his arms over his crotch, shielding it from sight. "It's kind of private, in case you haven't noticed."

Okay, this freaking out act was amusing in the beginning. Now it was plain annoying. Rolling her eyes, Gabriella told him "There's nothing personal or privacy-invading about it. I've asked tons of people this question before. Rob, some classmates from my old school, some dancers from my dance company. Even my brother, who gladly told me his size.

Pup's jaw _dropped_. It practically hit the ground with a bang. "Oh my...Jesus. Do you not have a filter?"

Oh brother. Gabriella rolled her eyes, irritated. At this rate, they wouldn't be leaving until New Year's. "Can you please get over yourself and tell me what your size is?"

"I'm not hearing this!" Troy covered his ears with his hands, humming loudly. "I'm not hearing this! I'm not hearing this!"

_Must resist urge to punch. Must resist _very strong_ urge to punch_, she told herself, at the very thin end of her patience. Although, in her defense, if he kept going, it was very likely he was going to end up with a black eye. "Bolton, if you do not quit it, I'll punch the living daylights out of you. Quit being so damn immature."

"I'm immature!" He repeated, incredulous. He dropped his hands to his sides and pointed at her. "You're the immature one, Montez. Asking me about my damn size."

Gabriella stared at him in shock, mouth agape. He was fucking with her. He was absolutely fucking with her. "You have got to be shitting me," She looked away to have herself a good, dry laugh before she turned back to Troy. "You're the one prancing around the room like you were about to have a twelve-inch needle shove your ass and _I'm_ the immature one." She turned away briefly for a moment to laugh again. "You know what? Bite me. And get over whatever bullshit you're dealing with because I really don't have time to waste. So quit acting like a prick and tell me how big-"

It suddenly hit her.

Gabriella stilled as realization came upon her, her eyes widening in shock as her mouth dropped. Her eyes fell down at Pup's bottom half, at the precious crotch he was trying to protect.

Oh. My. Freaking. God.

"You thought I...actually believed...I was meaning your dick?"

"What else could you possibly mean when you said 'how big it is?'?" Troy shot back.

She stared at him, long and hard, feeling something building up inside her. It was great, massive. A force too strong for her body to hold it, least of all her mouth she kept sealed. She accidentally opened her mouth, and that was all it took for loud, uncontrollable laughter to erupt from her.

She laughed so hard, tears streamed down her face and her stomach was killing her. When the laughter was too much for her body to handle, she collapsed to the ground, falling flat on her back, one hand holding her stomach, tears pouring from her eyes, the laughter ongoing.

"It's not funny!" Troy roared, making her laugh harder.

"Yes, it is," she managed to choke out between her giggles. "Absolutely hysterical."

Quickly getting herself up, Gabriella rushed back to her drink, finishing up all the juice to calm herself down. She reminded herself to remain calm and not giggle or else she'd choked herself to death with her laughs.

"FYI, genius, I was talking about the size of your pants," Watching his face go from annoyed and pissed off to embarrassed in an instant was hysterical. She nearly lost again, but reminded herself to hold it in. The smirk growing on her lips, on the other hand, she freely let it happen. "My friend, Anita, is working on our costumes and needs to know your sizes in both pants and shirts."

Wow. Just wow. This had to be the second time in a row he made a complete ass out of himself because of her. Only this one definitely topped his reaction when he thought she fired a gun in school.

"Oh," was all he could say while wishing the ground underneath him would swallow him whole. Or for time to quickly speed along so they could move forward from this awkward moment.

Well, at least, he wished it could be that way because he was the one suffering from the embarrassing moment. Gabriella, on the other hand, only wished she had a camera so she could record this moment for future generations.

"But you know what, pup. I am curious." He did not like the evil gleam that went off in her eye. Or how her eyes once again looked down at bottom, eyeing his penis despite his best efforts to hide it. She eyed it without shame, and didn't even fluster for a second. "How big is your little fri-?"

"Let's go to my room."

She followed behind, grabbing her bag and following him out the door. Behind him, he heard her laughing, which could only be about him.

Seeing some of Troy's house and the rooms, Gabriella already had a good idea what his room was like. Insanely huge, filled with everything a kid could want and more. Which was why she taken the first step in, she wasn't taken back.

Done in white and blue, spotless, and, unsurprisingly, twenty times the size of a master bedroom, it looked like an advertisement of the perfect room. There were a lot of windows, about five or six, all huge, showing the gray weather outside that looked like it would either rain or snow any minute. In the center of the room, surrounded by cashmere royal blue carpets, black leather furniture set and a gray and black marble-glass coffee table. On the table was an Apple laptop closed shut next to loads of textbooks, binders, notes, and everything else needed to study. Backed against the wall, neatly made in blue Egyptian cotton sheets, was the biggest king-size bed she ever seen.

On the left side of the wall were ribbons and certificates praising the good work Bolton has put into for various things. First place in every science fair since elementary school. Blue Student of the Year ribbons going all the way back to sixth grade. MVP of the year from freshmen year to now. Perfect attendance, East High's promo boy, and so on.

On the right side were shelves and shelves of pictures. On the bottom shelve was an impressive row of expensive cameras, each one costing more than two thousands dollars.

And that was only the first floor. The top floor was divided into two sections and had a wide, spiral staircase near the balcony doors leading up. On the left was the entertainment room that was more like a movie theater with a huge stereo system, a huge computer with a screen that was wide as a wide-screen TV, and even had a popcorn machine and concession stand. On the right side was the library she could see was like a miniature version of the central library back home, filled with endless rows and shelves of books.

His room was impressive, very impressive. The kind of room any kid would want to have. But it wasn't the top floor entertainment room that impressed her. Nor was it the huge balcony that had the most amazing view of the entire estate. It was the collection of cameras that captured her attention. There had to be about fifty or sixty, all from the film era where digital didn't exist.

She snuck a peek at Pup, and then returned back to the cameras. She never would have pegged him as a photographer. She wondered if he really did take pictures, if they were just a collection, or if they were there for display.

While his room was impressive, it really wasn't what she expected from a teenager boy's room. Being in plenty of rooms, counting Javier's side from their old room, she expected Playboy or Sport Illustration pinups, clothes everywhere, posters of rock stars or athletes, a pile of dirty magazines sticking out from under the bed. Other than the poster of Michael Jordan suspended in the air, basketball in hand and ready to take a dunk, there was nothing else in the room that indicated a teenage boy lived here.

Like the other rooms, there was a hollowness lingering in the air. Seemed like such a shame a perfect room like this could feel so empty.

"So. This is my room." Troy gestured his hand around.

"Not bad." She shrugged.

Troy frowned as he looked around the place for something and couldn't find it. "I thought I left my pajamas on the bed this morning. I guess Doris must have taken it to the laundry already."

Gabriella stared at him, an eyebrow slightly arched in disbelief. He actually needed to look at his pajamas to know what his own size was. Unbelievable. While it was common knowledge, eight-five percent of the male population could care less about clothes; they at least know what fit them. How the hell could he not know his?

"My mom mostly handles our clothes," He glanced over his shoulder to look at her. "But since she travels most of the time, the shopping usually falls into the hands of some maids who are more like my mom's squad of personal shoppers. They either order my clothes through catalogues or online stores. Or go shopping at the mall."

His own team of personal shoppers? Why didn't that surprise her?

"Let's go to my closet."

See, for any person, their closet was either a small space or a box in their room. Pup's closet was a room that was almost twice the size of his room. The floors were covered in soft-looking, pure white carpets. It was done like a store. Shelves of racked clothes at every corner and space, mirrors sandwiched between the shelves, and the shelves were arranged into three categories: the top was shirts, the second row was pants from dressy pants to jeans to shorts, and the last row was shoes featuring more than sixty pairs of Jordans and Chucks.

Everything was so spotless and perfectly organized, she immediately spotted something that stuck out from the rest of the crowd: a gray East High Wildcat hoodie that definitely had seen its' better days. She could tell from its ratty appearance and some stains she didn't want to know, it was worn a lot and probably a personal favorite. She could understand that, but it still didn't make much sense. Pup's whole world was completely organized and perfect. Favorite or not, with a shirt that was dirty and messed out, she wondered why he at least didn't want to wash it.

While she stared at the gray hoodie, trying to put pieces together, Troy went over to one of the racks and looked at the long sleeves of one of his shirts. "Size medium 38/40 for shirt."

He checked one his formal pants, a pair of light-tan slacks, for his pant's size. "Size 30 for pants."

Not hearing a response, Troy looked over at Gabriella, who still was trying to figure out the gray hoodie. "You okay?"

Her eyes went back to him, and she gave him a curt nod. "I'm fine." She smirked, looking more like her old self, and winked. "Don't worry about me, Pup. You focus all your attention to your crotch."

Back at the room, it was clear someone else came in while they were in his closet room. Without a doubt it had to be a maid, by the looks of the refreshments she left on the coffee table, which she cleaned up and cleared out. The snacks consisted of two bottles of Coke with an extra 2-liter bottle in case they finish their drinks and are still thirsty, a bowl of buttery popcorn, and a plate of out-of-the-oven brownies.

Her stomach growled at the sight, and she was more than happy to follow its hungry command. Gabriella picked one brownie up, eyeing the moist texture, and turned back to Troy as a question came up in her head. "Mind if I eat?"

"Its fine," He picked up one of the plastic plate conveniently left by the maid, and handed it to her. "As long as you use this."

Gabriella rolled her eyes, but still, she let him have his way. She was hungry after all. One bit into the brownie and she was gone. Sweet Jesus...soft and moist, gooey and warm chocolate center. It was fucking incredible.

Pup looked amused by her reaction, even though he was going through the same melting experience with his first bite. He moaned in pleasure, letting a small smile appear on his face. "Good, right?"

"The best," she degreed. Gabriella finished her first one under twelve seconds and moved onto another. She also moaned in pleasure, taking the first bite once again. "Do you have any frosting?"

Pup arched his eyebrow questioningly, but still used at a buzzer to alert the servants of their frosting need.

Barely a minute passed before a maid, dark-haired and plump, came into the room, carrying a tray of not one, but three different types of frosting with butter knives and another plate of brownies.

"Here you are sir." she said in a soft German accent, placing them on the table and slightly bowing in Troy's direction.

"Thank you, Doris." The supposed 'Sir' said and nodded to her.

Returning his nod, her gray eyes glanced over at Gabriella. At first they appeared shock, as if seeing a girl in his room was never done before, then shock changed to curiosity and some sort of approval.

"Ah, sir," Smiling warmly at Gabriella, Doris spoke to Troy in her native tongue. "_Ist sie deine neue Freundin? __Sie ist sehr hübsch, Sir. __Sehr schön in der Tat_."

Doris winked. Pup blushed and nearly choked again, for the second time in a row. Gabriella could only wonder what she said as she watched her bow again and leave the room.

Silence passed between them, going from not so bad to awkward quickly. Gabriella, being unable to stand such a thing for too long, decided to break it by telling Troy "You gonna tell me what she just said or do I have to start to guessing. I have to warn you, though; my guesses will be some pretty racy shit."

Pup swallowed, looked at her, and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck as he looked away. He quietly cursed at Doris. "She asked if you were my girlfriend. My new girlfriend, actually."

Him saying this made him blush bright red. He rolled the heels of his shoes and rubbed his neck again, as if easing tense muscles would make this moment move forward to a much comfortable, less awkward one.

"Huh." Gabriella made herself in the lazy boy chair, finishing another brownie. Eating another one, she glanced at Troy, whose back was to her, still standing and embarrassed.

She couldn't help but wonder how many girlfriends he had. It might a bit streotype-ish prejudice, but it was basic knowledge most jocks were experienced. Captains, of course, were no expectations to that knowledge. Yet, as odd as it was, Pup seemed to scatter that knowledge. Given the fact he was always focused in all his classes, and told her himself there was no dating for him because he was focusing on school and basketball, she wondered if he even kissed a girl.

She thought back to his freak-out in the dance studio, and nodded to herself. Now, she got the meaning behind it. He was a much bigger innocent pup than she realized.

Spreading vanilla frosting across the bottom of one brownie and chocolate frosting on another, she brought the two together to make a brownie sandwich and squeezed hard. She smiled at the oozy sides and corners of mixed frosting, knowing this would satisfy her sweet tooth. Taking a huge bite of it, she was not disappointed.

"You know," She opened her eyes, glancing over at Pup. "For someone who was told she was mistaken for a guy's girlfriend, you look like you couldn't care less."

Gabriella wiggled her finger at him, telling him to give her a minute. Once the brownie sandwich was eaten and down her throat, she said to him with a half shrug "You pretty much sum it up already."

Troy snorted and shook his head. She then remembered there was more German maid said.

"What else did she say?" Maybe it didn't mean anything, but what could she say? She was curious.

Troy rubbed the back of his neck again, a habitat she guessed he did whenever he was put on the spot. He told her it was nothing important, hardly worth her worrying. He may have hoped that would turn off her curiosity, but actually set it off. Gabriella got up from the comfy chair and stood in front of him, crossing her arms and looking him straight in the eye. They stared at one another hard, then Pup turned his head away with a silent grumble, admitting defeat.

"She said you're very pretty. Very pretty indeed." he finally said with another embarrassed blush and neck rub to go with it.

Gabriella arched her eyebrow at him. Well, the compliment was a bit unexpected, it wasn't that all surprising. What was surprising, though, was Pup looking so embarrassed about it. "You don't agree?"

He mumbled something like "Not really," his head still turned away from her, before he slowly turned back to look at her. His eyes studied her the same way Gregory and Doris did, examining her from head to toe, then back up again. "Don't get wrong me. You're attractive and all, but..."

She nodded slightly for him to continue.

"Pretty really isn't the word I used to describe you," Another nervous swallow as he eyed her again, his eyes stopping at her chest, which he stared at for a good five seconds, before scolding himself and continuing to study. He went back to her, which he stared into the longest overall. "I'd say exotic. It suits you better. Unbelievably stunning. Drop-dead gorgeous. Beautiful."

Wow. Just...wow. Gabriella took a slow, careful step back and cast her eyes to the ground, studying the designs of the carpet. He said exotic, thinking it was a much better word for her. And that wasn't all. He called her gorgeous. Stunning. Beautiful. She received a lot of comments and compliments about her looks for as long as she could remember. His should be no different. But somehow it was. The way he looked at her, directly into her eyes instead of at her mouth or her chest, complete sincere and innocence in those eyes of his, she knew he wasn't suggesting nothing more like wanting to do her or make-out. He was simply getting her his observations, telling her what he thought about her, but she could tell somehow it meant more in a completely different way than what she was used to. It baffled her.

Gabriella shook her head, and licked her lips hungrily. Man, she couldn't remember another time she wanted a cigarette so badly other than now. She needed a hit of nicotine to calm her down. There was pack in her gym bag, but she knew Pup would never let her smoke in his room. Wouldn't want to ruin the freshness of the air, now, would we?

To distract herself, she walked over to the right side, over at the photos and camera collection. It was, to her, the most interesting part of the room since it told something about Pup.

Predictably, there were some photos of his friends. His parents appeared in about five pictures, his mom in four of them and only one photo of his dad. And about hundreds of pictures of strangers and other places.

A common theme she was picked up from the photos: all natural. Simple moments that really looked incredible. Like his friend, disco-afro, in the mist of a back-flip, a huge grin on his face. Sparkle Barbie dressed in a white sequin-covered dress that stood out from the pitch black background, knees slightly bend, eyes closed, microphone close to mouth, losing herself in her song. A sweet-looking elderly couple at the beach, standing in front of the ocean, eyes closed and their mouths only a breath away from kissing. The sunset behind them gave such a wonderful background, the sun shining a golden glow around them.

"These are really good." Gabriella murmured. Really, really good.

"Thanks." Pup smiled sheepishly.

"Did you take them?" she turned to him.

"Yeah," Another sheepish smile with a blush. "But they're nothing really special. I mean I'm not that good."

Gabriella rolled her eyes at the comment. Only two kinds of people said that: the coy and the modest. The coy said things to look modest when really they weren't. The modest were the ones who were talented but shy of their abilities. Pup was no coy, so she went with the latter. "Pup, like I said before, I don't give compliments out easily. So I highly suggest you grow some balls and believe what I said."

He stared at her, wide-eyed. Once the shock faded, she saw a small smile on the curl of his mouth. "Thanks."

She nodded, and the two went back to looking at the pictures.

"By the way," His eyes glanced over at her. "In case I haven't said it before, you're seriously an amazing dancer. Phenomenal."

There it was again. Like an evil devil, the tingly feeling coiled in her stomach, setting off unexpected warmth that came over her. She blinked twice, to clear her head, and kept her gaze straight ahead.

"Thanks."

He nodded and kept quiet.

Gabriella looked back at the picture of his dad, only out of the hundreds, standing out from the rest. She wasn't sure if it was pup's first time with the camera or not, but the photo came out a bit blurry. His dad looked so bored, as if he couldn't wait for the picture to be taken and done with. Studying it closer, she saw a little blue-eyed, dark-haired boy in front of him holding the camera that captured the shot.

She grabbed the brown frame and brought it closer to her. Pup looked so much happier and calmer in this picture than the one downstairs, more like a kid. In the middle of father and son was a tall, cute guy who looked so much like Pup, it was like they were twins. He had one arm wrapped around Pup's neck and a hand placed on his dad's shoulder, smiling down at his little brother with so much love in his warm eyes.

The look in his eyes reminded her of Javier's gaze when he looked at her. When she was younger and there was nothing between them.

"Michael Bolton." It wasn't even a question, just a statement. After all, given the obvious family resemblance, who else could it be?

"Yeah," he nodded. "That's Mike."

His brother was really good-looking, so happy and at ease with that easy smile. She could see why he'd be considered the golden child. But it was odd seeing the picture because it was the first picture she ever seen of the elder Bolton in the whole house. She wondered what the grieving parents did with the pictures, along with the rest of the stuff. If they burned them to be rid of the memory or placed all his stuff into boxes that were hidden away, never to be seen or open again.

"He looks like you." she commented.

He nodded again, wincing slightly, but kept his attention on his brother. "People say that a lot."

His tone said it all. He didn't see that as a compliment. Then again, why would it be? Not wanting to be reminded of someone you didn't want to think about but still seeing them every time you saw your reflection. It was unbearable, sick. Like a cruel, taunting reminder. It was a feeling Gabriella knew all too well.

"When was it taken?" she asked.

"When I was eleven. A week before my birthday," he explained. "A week before he died."

She flinched slightly at the sudden unexpected, but held herself together so nothing was given away. She had to admit it though. She really didn't see that coming.

Maybe she should have said "I'm sorry," and accept his "its okay," response. Maybe she should have, but she didn't. It wasn't okay. She decided to just nod.

Pup swallowed a huge lump down his throat, his eyes hazed in mist. He didn't lost control though, keeping himself steady as a rock. "Car crash. These two drunken idiots decided it would be fun to race in the middle of the night. One of them crashed directly into us, and the other at the left side, knocking all of us into a huge tree, down a hill. The bastards made it out okay with a few bruises. I was pretty banged up. I was knocked pretty hard in the head. I had a serious concussion and nearly fell into a coma. Mike was killed on impact."

Gabriella didn't say anything. Not that she needed to anyway. Pup was moving on with his story. "According to the doctors, it was quick. Painless. He died _well_, they said. But there's no such fucking thing as dying well. Saying he died quick didn't make it any less okay," His breathing became shaky as the words spilled out. He took in a deep breath, but the feelings he was trying to keep at bay refused to be tame. "My mom traveled all over the world since the accident. 'Promoting business' as she called it. She missed the funeral,"

Gabriella had a feeling it was more like a deliberate move. A very deliberate, cold move.

"My dad, for once, couldn't handle attention, so he made sure there was an empty row way in the back reversed for him and only him. I was left alone at the front row. I can't remember a single moment I felt so alone like I did at Mike's funeral. Although, in the back of my mind, I knew it wasn't his fault, I was so angry with him. Unbelievably furious. Mike was the only person I could count on. He promised nothing would break us up, that he would always be there for me. The next thing I knew, out of the blue, he died. Gone. He left me, and for the longest time I hated him. He broke his promise, and I can't forgive him for that."

It hit Gabriella like buckets of cold water fell on her at once. Water so cold, it chilled her bones in a second and made her body numb.

His words played in her mind in loud, continuous echoes.

"…_.the only person I count on…"_

"_Promised nothing would break us up, that he would always be there for me…"_

"_He left me, and for the longest time I hated him."_

"_He broke his promise, and I can't forgive him for that."_

Immediately Javier's face popped into her mind, along with a stream of memories.

Javi taking her away from the rampage known as Maria whenever she was in her drunk-crazed fits, tearing up the house and looking for a kid as a punching bag.

Javi pushing her away as their mother came upon them, then going down hard by the strong, hard force of her stinging slap or a liquid bottle threw at the back of his hard.

Javi reading her her favorite Disney books every night, using the dolls to act out the parts, his gentle voice making all the badness go away and luring her to sleep.

Javi soothing her with lullabies whenever reality would get into her dreams, turning them to nightmares, and promising her they would leave when the time was right.

Javi…

_Don't!_ A lump nearly choked her, but she bit her bottom lip hard to will the feeling away. Bit it so hard, blood filled her mouth. She swallowed it down hard.

"Gabriella," she could hear Pup's concerned voice calling her name, but it sounded so far away. "You okay?"

She was able to breathe again, finally, once the feeling went away and the memories ceased. "Just thinking."

Gabriella looked at Pup, seeing his usual innocent eyes empty. Flat. She instantly hated that look.

She needed to do something.

She went to the coffee table, grabbed what she needed, and went back to Troy. "Pup?"

He turned around, and was soon knocked down by the chocolate frosting flung at his face. As he got himself together, he used his left hand to wipe off some frosting on his cheek, staring at it for a second or two before looking up at her, a spark coming to life in his dull eyes that thrilled her.

"Did you seriously just-"

He was cut off by another, bigger glob of frosting, smacked right at his forehead. "Will you stop-"

A third glob threw at his left cheek.

"Throwing frosting-"

A fourth threw at his right cheek.

"At my face!"

As a response, she stuck her hand into the jar and balled up the biggest ball of frosting, throwing it at his mouth. Pup's face was completely covered in chocolate frosting, good enough to eat. She smirked at her handy work. "You know, pup, chocolate goes so well with your complexion."

He pounced, arms outstretched and ready to grab her. Gabriella was fast, though, already speeding up the stairs. Suddenly, as she was close to the top, arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back. She found herself being lifted and tossed over Pup's shoulder, feet kicking wildly as he walked them down and over to his bed.

"Pup, put me down!"

"As you wish!"

He tossed her onto the bed like she was some jacket. He then pounced on her again before she could catch her breath, smearing frosting off his face onto hers and tickling her. The two stayed on that bed for what felt like forever, smearing frosting onto each other's faces, tickling one another, and laughing their heads off.

Probably the most either one has done in the longest time.

"Happy now," He was trying to stay serious and mad at her, but seeing how the two of them looked, covered in chocolate with some feathers from the pillows stuck on them, it was hard not to laugh. "You got me dirty."

Gabriella smirked, licked her hand, and wiped it on his face, jumping on him. Now she was the one straddling him and tickling him like crazy.

"Okay, okay, okay," Pup cried out laughing. "I give, I give, I give!"

"Now who's the one in the control, Bolton?" She leaned in close to him, her breasts pressed against his chest, hands lightly brushing against his skin. He bit his lip hard, holding in a groan.

"Uh, uh..."

A loud sound of someone clearing his throat broke them apart, untangling themselves from each other and sitting on the opposite sides of the bed.

Pup's dad, the cock-sucker General himself, stood in the doorway. His face perfectly composed and calm, while his cold, anger-filled eyes gave him away.

"Dad," The expression on Pup's face reminded her of an innocent baby deer looking into the eyes of a huge lion ready to swallow it whole. "I thought...You weren't suppose to be back until eight."

Jack's eyes looked at his son, who swallowed hard, and over at Gabriella, who met his hard gaze with one of her own. His gaze may be unpleasant, but compared to what she dealt with back in the Brocks, he was a puppy dog. Turning back to his son, he said "Plans change. And I can only imagine what would have happened if I didn't come back."

The possibilities were practically screamed in the heavy silence.

Giving Gabriella the once-over, but speaking to Pup, cock sucker said "Troy, please escort your...person out of this house. Guests will be coming soon, and we wouldn't want questions about certain flitch now, would we?"

"Dad!" Troy exclaimed. That was so, completely uncalled for. And plain rude.

"I only speak the truth," the bastard actually had the nerve to smile pleasantly at her, like they were talking in secrets. "After all, I'm sure people of _her kind_ have called much worse. Spics. Thieves. Liars. And that's only for the men. For the women, I believe it's mostly cheap prostitutes. Whores, if I'm going to be plain honest."

Before Pup, who was no longer resembling a deer but a pissed-off wolf with vengeance, could speak, Gabriella held up her hand in front of his mouth, silencing him. She could handle dear Pops.

Smirking herself, she said to him. "It's really funny, Mr. Bolton, you said that. You see there's only thing people of _my kind_ consider the worst thing we could be called. Well, actually, it's more like a comparison to people like...you. You know. Stiff-necked, twenty to fifty feet sticks shoved up your asses, dull and lifeless, fake like reality TV. Not to mention tiny, little weenies for balls."

Both father and son's jaws dropped. She couldn't tell which one was more shocked.

Cock-sucker's face was bright red, the color of lava rising up in the volcano, seconds before it exploded. He yelled at Troy "Get her out of here!" He then left, with a heavy slam of the door.

Before Pup retrieved his fallen jaw, Gabriella was off the bed, grabbed her things, and out the door. He quickly caught up behind her, and walked to the door.

"Gabriella," He gently grabbed her hand, making her look back at him and his sincere, apologetic face. "I'm really-"

She took her hand back and used it to open the front door, stepping outside onto the front porch. "Don't worry about it, Pup. I've dealt with things much bigger and scarier than him."

Without another word or a look back, she got onto her bike and drove away. She could still feel his incredibly blue eyes watching her from the porch until she disappeared from sight.


	13. Chapter 13

**ET chapter 13: Mirror, mirror on the whole…who do we hate most of all?**

_December 12, 2011_

_Seasons are coming closer and closer, which has been on everyone's mind. So many things to buy and so little time to get everything. In NYC, things were hectic and here it's not different. Javi, Anita, and I have been working our butts off to get ready for the holidays. They both have started taking double shifts to get some money for gifts, the tree and food. Half is going towards the Holidays and the other half is going towards Anita's family back in Puerto Rico who seriously need the money. _

_As for me, my money is being split into thirds. One going towards Javi and Anita to help with the bills. Another towards gifts that I hope can be within my budget. Another going towards my savings. Thank God, though, I don't have to worry about flight fare when I met my dance crew in good ole NYC. _

Gabriella took a break from writing in her journal to smile to herself.

She wasn't lying when she told Pup she was still in the company, the Cultural Blend. They could take everything else, but she would be damned if she had to leave the company, too. God knew she gave her all into that, the troupe was like her family, and the thought of some other dancer taking her place was more than enough to make her cry. It meant to much to her, all seven hundred and ninety members of that troupe were her family, a family she half the time considered her only family. Especially Madame Groksi, who was like a mother to her. A mother she never had at home.

Madame and everyone from the Cultural Blend agreed she should stay. After all, their official tours didn't start till the end of the June went onto the second week of September, around the time when schools usually started. So her moving wasn't going to affect them. She did, on the other hand, have to try to meet them during Thanksgiving break and Christmas break to rehearse for their winter show in New York. But since those were during holiday vacations, no one could say it'd interfere with school. And on, the top of that and the hundreds of people she had to back her up, no one wanted to go against Madame, so it was all settled.

Before they never really done a winter show. Then six years ago, Debbie butted heads with a producer from the American Ballet Company. Producer bragged how their Nutcracker always got sold-out every year, much better than any of their shows. Debbie challenged they could do a Christmas show that would sell ten times better.

Her idea: the Nativity story.

It was spontaneous, unthinkable, which was why she believed it was perfect. Seeing the story of Jesus' born on stage may be just as good or better than reading it from the Bible or visiting a church.

"It's original," she said to them. "The Nutcracker has been done so many times, it gets boring after awhile. Retelling the Nativity story with dance and some singing would be so unexpected, which makes it perfect."

Naturally, everyone had their doubts, but in the end was proven wrong. The performance not only had incredible sales, but received outstanding reviews from the best critics in the city. Since then, they've been performing the Nativity Story every holiday season. So while Anita and Javi would be celebrating Christmas with Paco in Albuquerque, she would be dancing onstage at the Palace Theater on Broadway Street four times a week for the next the few weeks.

Madame has been emailing her reminders since November. Remember to pack light, but still have the necessities. Remember to print out plane ticket. Remember to get there on time. And, of course, to practice, practice, practice.

Gabriella glanced over at her small closet. Against the doors, next to the tote bag and suitcase half packed for her trip, were the powdery white pointe shoes Madame given her on her final night in New York as a _See You Soon_ gift. They were so pretty and perfect when they were in the box. Now they looked as if they've been threw under the train twice.

Don't get her wrong. She loved shiny new shoes as the next girl, but to her dance shoes didn't look right until they got some worn in them. Or, in her case, a lot of worn.

_Today, I went over to Pup's 'house'. I use the term loosely because the humongous building I spent over six hours in was anything but a house. But that didn't impress me. Okay, so it was big. It was more than four stories. Yes, there was a pool. And yes, it had the features and extras like Hollywood mansions. But see, I cloud visit Donald Trump's houses and still not be impressed._

_What did impress me was Pup. _

_Today, he found his groove and his inner Don Jose. A lot earlier than expected. He was passionate, intense, a completely different person. He let go of himself-finally-and that was actually a thrill to be part of. _

_Half the time, though, I wonder why he doesn't let himself go more often. Why he must always be so uptight and perfect about everything. _

_It's a shame he can't say fuck it and let it go more often _

"Gabriella!" Anita called from the living room. "Come here."

Dunking her cigarette, her sixth of the night, into the ashtray, she tucked her blue pen into her journal and closed it. She went into the living room, where Anita was doing some work on the couch. By work, she meant designing and sewing. Her white, rusty but still durable sewing machine was on the coffee table. Baskets of fabric in different colors and textures and other things piled up by the stacks which sat on the floor. A bunch of clippings and printed out pictures was spread out in front of her. She finished the sparkly belt she sewn onto the skirt, with a dozen pins in her mouth.

"You called?"

Anita looked up at her, but one whiff of the smoke coming off from her clothes, a sour look appeared on her pretty face. What Gabriella found ironic was, despite the fact she came from a long live of heavy smokers, Anita couldn't stand smoking. A habitat too strong for even her to help break for the Montez smokers. So Gabriella and Javi had their cigarettes when she wasn't home and Paco wasn't present, outside, or in Gabriella's room.

"Spare the lecture, Anita." _Smoking will kill you. Your poor lungs will be become black mush. You're a cigarette closer to an early grave._ It was a long day for Gabriella, and she was not in the mood.

Anita let out a loud, heavy sigh, releasing her frustration and exhaustion. It proved she was just as tired as giving the lectures as they were receiving it. She quickly got over it, though as she smiled, got up, and held out the skirt, unraveling the tumble of beautiful crimson red.

It was insanely sick, truly beautiful. Gabriella could only grin wildly, her excited eyes looking up at Anita's.

"Well, don't just there stand and gawk," she gestured towards the gray plastic stool in front of the TV. "I need to see how it falls."

Gabriella, dressed only in a white night cami and her underwear, wasted no time getting on, spreading her arms out and staying still. Anita helped her onto the skirt, which felt cool and smooth, smoothed out Gabriella's form, and begged her to be as still for as long as she could. She quickly got to work fixing up the skirt, adjusting it so it would fit perfectly onto Gabriella's hips and still show off her curves.

The material felt so smooth, so soft, like a blend of the softest cotton and the sleekest silk. The color a rich crimson red. Anita had made it so beautifully. A shimmering band of blood encircled above her hips. Black and blooded red oversize sewn-in belt adorned with big golden-colored stubs. Three shimmery chains strands of black, thin chains attached from the left side going back to the right.

Gabriella swayed her hips, watching the skirt fan out and twirling with her movements. She could see Anita really put a lot of detail into it, making sure it looked sexy enough to measure up to the sultry gypsy, Carmen, but still made it flowy and comfortable enough for her to dance in.

The sound of rumbling clouds brought Gabriella's attention over to the window, where she could see a storm was brewing outside. She could barely contain a smile. She loved the rain, loved the thunder and the lightening. To her, it symbolized power and strength, God in a way. Like how the heavy rain drops could be tears from heaven, because God was saddened by the all the injustice he saw in the world. Half the time she would stay inside during the storm, reading or writing with the weather as the perfect background music. And sometimes, when the sudden impulse had control of her, she would rush outside to dance in the rain. For hours and hours she would dance nonstop, unafraid of the thunder or the lightning nearby. They only added to the beauty of it, the magic she felt being in the middle of Mother Nature at its' work.

"Don't even think about it," Anita scolded as she pinned a needle extra hard in Gabriella's ass, reminding her to keep still. "It took me forever to find the right fabric, and even longer to make the skirt perfect." She stood in front of Gabriella, grabbed her chin, and looked directly into her eyes. "I will _cut_ you if you ruin my master piece."

Gabriella rolled her eyes half-heartedly, unable to stop herself from smirking. "Okay, okay. No rain dancing in the skirt. I got it."

After an hour and a half of pining and stitching (and poking Gabriella's ass), Anita took a step back from her life mannequin and sighed in relief with a smile. "_Perfecto._ The top is halfway done, so it should be done in another three weeks. Then I'll switch over to Don Jose's uniform."

Gabriella snuck a peek at Anita's portfolio, the final copy of Carmen's dress. Although, it was a more like a top and skirt combination that screamed gypsy and was amazing. The top was pretty much the same version of the skirt, minus the gold stubs. She looked over at the other pictures Anita laid on the coffee table. Esmeralda from the Hunchback of Norte Dame in her red gypsy dress. Paz Vega as Carmen from the movie. A red flamenco dress next to a skimpy belly-dancer's. Jade from the Bratz in a pink genie and gypsy-like outfit.

"Bratz, Anita?" she asked. "Seriously."

She shrugged, sticking all her pins back onto her red wristband she used as a holder. "_¿Por qué no?_ It's actually gave me some inspire on how the top should be. I was thinking a busty tank top. Or a bustier over a short-sleeve blouse. Or maybe just a bustier." She spoke the ideas more to herself than Gabriella as her designer mind began working. She quickly grabbed her portfolio and a pencil, making some adjustments. "Maybe, for the rose, we can have a beaded arm winding up on your arm."

Gabriella felt a sense of pride as she watched her friend and her quick hand drew down her ideas. Anita has been designing and sewing clothes since she was twelve, a gift she inheritated and learned from her mother and grandmother. She was insanely talented, but for now had to stick to sewing buttons onto shirts, making dresses the Godzilla brides had in mind for their wedding, and fixing clothes for carless customers. Still, Gabriella had no doubt thing would look up for her. "Seriously, thank you, Anita. For doing this for me."

A thank-you from Gabriella was almost as rare as a smile from her, which may be the reason why hearing it sounded so meaning to Anita. "You're welcome," Grabbing all her pictures; she stuck them into the portfolio folder, and gathered up her things. "Keep in mind you can also thank me by giving my business card to rich kids who might be interested in my clothes. And their mothers who are more than free to spread the word among their circle of friends."

Gabriella giggled. "Can I please at least dance in the house? Por favor?"

Anita looked into her big brown eyes pulling off the puppy eyes, knowing she was a goner. No one could the resist the puppy look, including her. She took her sweet time gathering all the fabric boxes, stacking one on top of the other, and placing them on the table. She then turned to Gabriella, sighed, and said up to the ceiling "Alright."

Feeling victorious, Gabriella jumped off the stool, into Anita's arms, hugging her tight. She moved onto the center of the room, leaping and spinning, loving the way the skirts fanned out in a twirl of red, feeling so free.

"Dance, my beautiful gypsy," Anita clapped her hands rhythmically. Gabriella moved her body to the sound."Dance."

She danced all around the living room, pretending to play a tambourine, and carried the dance over to her room. There, she stretched her arms over her head and stood high on her pointy toes, spinning so swiftly and gracefully. So fast, she collapsed onto her bed half a minute later, out of breath but renewed with energy.

Two minutes later, once the dizziness subsided, she slowly sat up. While catching her breath, she laughed at herself and her random acts of silliness.

"You better not ruin that skirt or you're going to wake up with fifty needles in your eyes." Anita cried.

"Love you, too, Anita." Gabriella replied, getting out of her bed and walking over to her vanity dresser.

Her dresser wasn't so bad but wasn't all that hot either. Javi got it at a good price from The Salvation Army. Three drawers that were in a color pattern from brown, light brown, and close to blackish-brown, black brass handles that were a bit loose, a fairly big circular mirror. Sure, some of the wood was chipped off, but she could deal. On top of the dresser was some of her hair stuff: a hairbrush, comb, and some hair lotion. Her small makeup bag containing about six beauty cosmetics. Some loose change she was too lazy to collect. And, of course, her Disney collection.

Her six favorite Disney Princesses (and non-Princesses) with boyfriends and friends leaned against the mirror glass, smiling at her. Alluring Esmeralda with Phoebus by her left and a plush Quasimodo by her right. Beautiful bookworm _Beauty and the Beast_ Belle with her beastly prince. Sassy Princess Jasmine and Aladdin with their mini plush Genie. Free-spirited Pocahontas and Captain John Smith. Courageous Mulan and Shaung. Hot 'n' cold Meg and Hercules.

Gabriella picked up her Esmeralda doll and studied her. Her pretty face and emerald green eyes. Her loose, black hair and pretty gypsy dress. Her tambourine attached to her hand, ready to make music. Holding her in her hands made Gabriella feel as if she was a little girl again.

"_How much longer, Javi?" Curious, tired from being woken up early, and impatient. Not the best combination for a four year old girl who was pulled from her safe dreams by her brother who decided they needed to go somewhere at four something in the morning on Christmas morning. _

_She didn't have time to ask questions. Javi quickly got her dressed, slipped her quietly passed by the drunken woman passed out on the couch, and forced her to walk a long flight of stairs that seem to go on forever. _

"_Not long now," repiled the eleven year old. Javi from time to time had to sometimes tug her hand, so she would quicken her pace. He turned back and smirked at her, the bum. He thought her impatience was funny._

_She stuck her tongue out at him, getting a chuckle out of him. Her eyes glanced down at the backpack he had strapped on his shoulder. She wondered what was inside. _

_Maybe something for her. _

"_Don't even think about it." He didn't even need to look over to know what her sneaky, little hand was reaching for. _

_Defeated, she stuck her tongue out at him and blew a loud raspberry._

_Once they reached a tall, black door, a thousand steps later, Javi scooped her up into her arms and asked "You ready?"_

_She nodded and watched him push the door open. The first thing she saw was white. Pure, angelic white. Piles and piles of snow covering up every inch of the rooftop, heavy snowflakes falling from the sky, and everything so white and pretty. _

_For a moment, she was stunned. She never been up the rooftop before, but imagined it was dirty and old like the rest of the apartment building. Now, it didn't look old and dirty. It didn't look like it belonged to the building. It looked like it belonged in Winter Wonderland where everything Christmassy and beautiful was at. _

"_Wow." she breathed. _

_Javi smiled and walked over to the railing of the rooftop, setting themselves down on the floor and singing her a Christmas song along the way. _

_Pulling her onto his lap and placing his bag on the ground, he said "I'm going to ask you three questions. If you get them right, then you win a prize."_

_Gabriella nodded eagerly. _

"_Okay first question and this is a hard one by the way. Who…is the best and most handsome brother in all of New York?"_

_Rolling her eyes, she couldn't hold back her small smile as she answered "You, Javi."_

"_I know, I know, Thank you," She rolled her eyes again at his big ego, but listened to the second question. "Second question. What is a name of a wander that goes from place to place? Sometimes have their own camps? Who people sometimes go to so they can have their fortune told?"_

"_A gypsy!" She was starting to get an idea of Javi's questions. _

"_Very good. And now final question. What is the name of the girl these soon to be friends fight over?" To demonstrate the question, he brought out Quasimodo and Phoebus, smashing them against each other. _

_Excitement burst in her as the answer came. "Esmeralda."_

_Javi intimated the sound of a game show bell going off when someone has won a prize. He passed Gabriella her toys, which she put on her lap, and clapped his hands. "Unbelievable! Ladies and gentlemen, this is a memorable moment. For the first time, a contestant actually got all three questions correct. And that contestant is Miss Gabriella Rosa Montez."_

_Gabriella had to laugh at her brother's enthusiasm. It was moments like this that reminded her how much she loved her brother and how much he cared for her in return. _

_Dropping a kiss on her head, he unzipped his backpack and brought out a green and red wrapped present, tied with a shiny, satin red ribbon in a perfect bow. "And now, Miss Montez, your prize."_

_The first thing she did once she eagerly snatched the present from her brother's hands was to carefully untie the ribbon and store it onto her pocket. It was too pretty to be forgotten. As for the wrapping paper, she tore that sucker up like a wild animal. _

_She gasped at the sight of the gift, unable to believe her eyes. _

_It was a Disney Esmeralda girl. An actual Esmeralda doll. In her own hands. Despite the fact she was holding it right in her hands; she had to look at it to know it was really there. The gypsy was wearing the same clothes she wore in the movie, with the white dress she wore when she was also burned by the fire. Her raven hair tied with a pink hair wrap, her tambourine attached to her right hand, a pretty smile on her face. _

"_Esmeralda!" she squealed so loudly apartments blocks away could hear her. "You actually got me an Esmeralda doll."_

_She jumped on her brother, nearly knocking them both to the ground, and squeezed him tight. "Thank you, thank you, and thank you!"_

_He returned the hug with the same fierce tightness, practically crushing her small body. "I knew you loved it."_

"_Of course, I love it. She's my favorite Disney princess. You're the best brother in the world-" her voice trailed off as she noticed something on his neck. Pushing back loose strands of his hair, she could clearly see the vicious red scratches on his skin. _

_The wounds were really bad, still fresh with a deep reddish and purple swelling around it. It was like he was mauled by a wild animal. Or had something like glass threw at him. Something like a half-empty liquor bottle. _

_Maria. Her guess was confirmed by the hint of heavy alcohol she could smell on his neck. A sickness hit Gabriella hard like a punch to her stomach. _

_Noticing how quiet she suddenly was, Javi put his little sister down and squatted down to her level, meeting her eyes. He brushed back her hair and held her cheek. "Its okay, Ella. Just enjoy your new doll and let me worry about everything else."_

_She knew she should. She wished she could. Problem was she couldn't. Every time her brother had to deal with Maria, things ended badly. Usually with black and blue bruises. It always made her feel scared, scared and helpless because he preferred handling things on his own. _

_Javi brought her attention back by tapping the doll's box in her hands. He smiled at her softly; her favorite smile that said everything was going to be okay, the same smile that could say more than words could. _

"_Okay," She understood whatever happened he didn't want questions or thoughts about it. She had to accept that. She looked down at her first doll, her first girl doll that it. And not just any doll, but her favorite Disney girl. She then looked up at Javi, seeing her favorite smile on his face, slowly smiling herself. 'Thank you, Javi. Merry Christmas."_

_He gathered her into his arms and hugged her. "Merry Christmas, Ella. And you're welcome."_

_Pulling her back, he looked at her sweet face and said "Now we have two crazy gypsies under one roof."_

Gabriella shook her head, breaking herself free from the memories. She looked at her gypsy doll, picked her up, and used a small purple brush to straighten out her hair. When the raven hair was smooth and untangled, she smiled in satisfaction.

"How about that, Esmeralda?" She held the doll to her chest, smiling at their reflection. "Two crazy, pretty gypsies under one roof."

It wasn't like she didn't love the other Disney dolls because she did. Each one was her favorite. Each girl she could relate to. Belle because of her love for books and looking past appearances. Jasmine because she refused to be claimed like a prize and choosing what she wanted. Pocahontas because her free-spirited way of letting the wind choosing her destination. Mulan because of her selflessness and bravery, refusing to be the typical girl and actually doing something. Meg because she was careful around people after learning a painful lesson. But Esmeralda has always been her favorite.

For one, she wasn't a princess. She was a heroine, besides Mulan that is. She stood up for not only Quasi, but her people, the gypsies. She was the first person who looked past Quasi's looks, seeing a kind-hearted man behind the hideous face. She wasn't afraid of anything, not even the powerful Frollo who set her on fire. She was kind, fearless, fierce, and free-spirited. And the fact she was a dancer and knew how to work it was a plus. And she was also a gypsy, which fascinated Gabriella.

Brushing back Esmeralda's hair, she felt like she was a little kid again. Spending so many hours playing with it, keeping it in her backpack during school hours, holding onto it tightly as she slept. She basically went everywhere with her doll. "Two crazy, pretty gypsies."

Saying the familiar word to her doll reminded her of the interesting time she spent at Bolton's place. How red he turned when the German maid believed she was his girlfriend-_his new girlfriend_-and she was pretty. How he turned redder when he said the word wasn't quite right for her, believing it wasn't enough.

"_I'd say exotic. It suits you better. Unbelievably stunning. Drop-dead gorgeous. Beautiful."_

Gabriella slowly put Esmeralda back in her place, and stared at her reflection, her inky hair and olive skin. Like many other people, she considered herself Latina because of the passionate drive she had in her, especially in her dancing, and restless, raw spirit she possessed. But although she was Hispanic with more than several Latin bloodlines, she was also mixed.

From unknown, faceless dark-haired dude whose sperm was used to bring life to her, she was part Filipina. A reason why she looked half Asian from certain angles. From the other side, she was Mexican, Cuban, Argentina, Brazilian and Italian with some blood tracing back to Arab, Egypt, Native American, and Romania.

Pup was right. Exotic was a better word for her looks. Looks that were given to her, thanks to her mother.

Maria.

Dark hair in the deepest shade of black that was sleek, dark mocha eyes that could bewitch anyone with a single look, a small nose and full lips, a petite body that was small but made it for it's lack of height with hot, attention-grabbing curves completed with full breasts and a nice ass, a face too intoxicatingly stunning for words.

For as long as she could remember, people have been saying how much they looked alike. How they looked so much like each other, it was easier to think Maria was an elder sister instead of a mother. How they could pass as twins.

It was meant to be taken as a compliment, but Gabriella rarely took it as one. It was more like an insult, something hurtful and stinging as a punch or a slap.

Maria had once been a great, incredible beauty. Perfect face, perfect body that could outshine a model. And she always let that beauty get to her head, believing it was take her many places. And in some ways, she wasn't wrong. When she was thirteen and living poor in Mexico, a rich older man who was exploring the country noticed her right away. She was beautiful, too beautiful, and he thought she would be the perfect treasure to bring back to America. She was only thirteen, a young teenager, but it didn't matter to anyone, least of all her father, if she left. And so she went.

Sure, in reality she was the guy's mistress, meant to please him anytime and anyway he wanted. But she was given the best clothes and jewelry, got to live in the nicest mansion, got to travel all around the world with her guy, and was treated like a princess. She also had a successful go at modeling, her face making it onto Billboards and magazines around some places in Europe. So, for awhile, Maria had been living the good life.

Fast forward to two years old later, coming to New York to make a fresh start after she was ditched by her ancient boyfriend for Playboy bunny twins. She was still young and gorgeous, so she believed she could get something out of New York. And she did. She got Riff, a dark-haired cute guy with a snake tattoo on his forearm and the darkest black eyes. He was a struggling guitarist who taken her into his home and his life, introducing her to the beautiful thing known as cocaine. Cocaine, meth, ecstasy, marijuana, and, of course, heroin.

For a few months, things were going alright with them. Riff was starting to go some places with his music, and Maria was starting to get some offers for either modeling or her dancing. They were in an alcohol-and-drug hazed, sex-filled paradise. Everything was coming together and running smoothly. Until Maria found out one tearful day she was pregnant. Still, even as she sobbed and clung onto Riff, she wasn't too scared. After all, they were on their way, things would look up, and Riff loved her. She really believed he loved her and would stay by her side. Which was why when he claimed he'd be back from the drugstore once he got some cigarettes and never came back, the pain from the heartbreak and the abandonment nearly killed her.

Her solution for the pain? Alcohol and lots of it. Her usual was two bottles of Jack with a side bottle of vodka, although she was known to mix drinks together to get the ultimate buzz. Those were what she had with her cocaine and heroin that was her breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Javier once told her, when he was five, he asked Maria about his father. He was wondering what he looked like since all the pictures of him have been cut off, torn, and burnt long ago. She put down her vodka bottle, looked at him long and hard with no anger or resentment in her eyes, and said in one word that had so much loathing, pain, grief, sadness, and rage behind it.

"You."

She then slapped him across the face, so hard and painfully, that he banged his head on the coffee table before hitting the ground. He said it was like getting punched by the Hulk, the superhero he both loved and feared. So much rage and fury behind the abuse, he never forgot about it.

That was the first time Javi got the picture. It wasn't just that Maria was uncaring and unkind. That she was neglectful and poorly prepared, he had to start doing things on his own so young. He understood how much Maria resented him, how much she hated him.

_And only two years older than me_, Gabriella thought, remembering the swing incident and how Maria looked down so poorly at her. Her daughter covered in the dirt, the perfect place for her to be in as far as she was concerned. She was only three when she realized Maria hated her.

Actually, as Gabriella thought about it more carefully, she realized that wasn't right. Maria hated Javier because he strongly resembled the smart asshole that left her. But she hated Gabriella even more-a thousand, million times more because she looked exactly like her.

Some would assume it was because Gabriella was somehow prettier, fresher, and younger compared to her. That with a younger, fresher version of the once great beauty, she took attention away from the original. But there was more to it than that.

Gabriella was seen to Maria as a dark reminder of the past, reminding her of the youth and beauty she lost as the years went by. Making her remember about her idiotic, naïve self, the mistakes she made, and where her choices have gotten her.

A former beauty whose once gorgeous face had hardened, her voluptuous figure shrunken to skeleton skinny, and her black hair that lost its' luster and was streaked with early gray. An alcoholic who couldn't go a day, much less an entire week without a drink, and was terribly addicted to alcohol just like Huckleberry Finn's father. An addict, whose addiction was just as bad as her alcoholism, needed her drugs or all hell would break loose. A cold mother who beat her children regularly because to her it was their fault her life was shitty.

"_A fucking bitch, cheap whore, and inconsiderate ass all mixed together to make a sickening combination. I swear to God, you're just like her!"_

Bile rose in her throat as she recalled Javi's words a few weeks ago. Thinking about what he said twisted her stomach even more, making her sick. Javi may have apologized afterward, but it still didn't make it any less okay. It still didn't leave her mind. It was planted in her subconscious, coming out whenever it felt the need to make Gabriella feel like shit.

The fact Javi, her own brother she once knew so well, said it in the first place revealed something. Since she was the spitting image of the bruja, then she also must have her personality traits as well. He thought, just because she forgot to write a stupid, little note explaining her whereabouts, she was Maria: a useless, bitchy whore in the making.

Her fists clenched so tightly, her skin was close to breaking. All the anger and shame she felt came back almost instantly. _How dare he!_ How dare he actually compare her to that cheap whore!

Gabriella made a run for her journal and channeled her emotions onto the paper.

_Today, I was given the chance to see glimpses of the picture-perfect Troy Bolton. Glimpses I'm sure his friends hadn't even seen. He showed me his passion-photography of all things-and talked to me about his brother, Mike. He told me about the accident, the aftermath, and how much Mike meant to him but at the same time how much he hated him. For leaving him, breaking him his promise, leaving him in a really fucked-up position with his cocksucker dad. _

_Believe me, this was a conversation that was far too familiar for me. _

She stopped writing for a second to breathe in deep, letting it out slowly, before she continued. Those goddamn memories don't know when to take a hike.

_He looks too much like his brother; he could pass as the guy's twin. Pup flinched when I mentioned this, saying it all in just one tiny gesture. He didn't see it as a compliment any more than when some idiot tells me I look like Maria. It made that feeling come back, the same feeling I've been feeling lately whenever they're seemed some kind of understanding between us. _

_In some ways the two of us are alike. _

_We both hate thinking about the past. Because we both know there's no point unless we want to be reminded how naïve we were, thinking everything was going to work out in the end. To be reminded of broken promises and everything horrible that came after that. _

_Which is why it's so unbelievably sickening we're reminded of the past every time we look into the mirror and see the demon's reflection, smirking at us. Mocking us. There's no other feeling or word that could be used to describe how wrong and sick it is. _

_Nothing at all. _

She read the last passages she written and shook her head. Her fit of rage died down into pure exhaustion from not only the whole day, but everything else.

She yawned softy into her fist, and closed her book, placing it on the nightstand. She lay back flat on the bed, closed her eyes, and gave into the exhaustion.

* * *

><p>With the holidays coming closer, parties have been thrown at the Boltons' mansion since Thanksgiving weekend nearly every Sunday. His dad, and sometimes his mom, going all out with the food, decorations, gift bags, and inviting hundreds of the thousands friends they have.<p>

All night long, Troy has been walking around the living room, mingling with friends and colleagues, dressed in his best suit with the perfect smile plastered on his face. The smile was so perfect, so believable no one would suspect his misery underneath.

God, he hated parties. He hated them so much. It was always the same people from the country club members to his mom's colleagues and their friends who brought friends. It was always the same flashy food and coolers of never-ending drinks. Always the same conversation going on about who's divorcing and who's having an affair, and so on.

It's been a tradition for the family since Mike was two, and Jack claimed it was for spreading some cheeriness with his closest friends. But Troy knew it was really all about his dad showing off his wealth, reminding everyone who he was and where he came from.

Troy was listening to Mr. Lama, his dad's golf partner from the country club, go on and on about his perfect game yesterday. Well, more so, nodding and pretending to listen until he cleverly excused himself to get some refreshments. He went over to the buffet table, picked up an appetizer, and took his time chewing it, as if it could possibly give him the strength to continue the party.

As he chewed, he felt a familiar pair of blue eyes burning holes at the back of his head. He quickly gulped down before he turned around, meeting his dad's cold, hard stare.

_You're mine_, those eyes said. Their gaze reminded Troy of vampire's dark, malicious stare when they came face to face with a human.

Suddenly, he didn't want the party to end.

Sadly, though, it did end. Two hours later. His dad played the perfect host almost as well as Troy played the put-together son. He escorted each guest to the door, telling them to come back any time, handing them a goody-filled gift bag and complementary bottle of expensive champagne.

With the last guest gone, Jack ordered Troy to stand behind him. As he heard the hesitant steps, he turned back and the happy mask he wore all night was gone in an instant, replaced by a scowl.

"Let's go to my office, shall we." It wasn't a question, it was a request. One Troy was too smart to ignore. He quietly followed his father upstairs to his office, telling himself not to worry too much. Even though Jack's speech was a bit slurred, his eyes bloodshot, and he grabbed himself two bottles of vodka on the way.

Once they were in the spacious office, Jack gestured for Troy to sit at the brown leather couch. He obediently sat, and sighed in relief as his dad sat down on the recliner chair. He was glad for the space between them, but couldn't help being on his guard.

So far, the whole way up, his dad was calm. No glaring, no explosions. Just calm and quiet. For example, he was pulling back the recliner and getting comfortable in the chair. He glanced over at his son's face, studying it like he was an unusual painting, trying to get the true meaning behind it.

Troy forced himself to remain perfectly still and calm as his dad watched him. The façade, though, was slightly chapped at the sight of the smile on Jack's face. It so alarmingly, almost frightening, because it wasn't his usual dry or forced smiles. It was a pleased, bright smile, as if he was happy with his son. A smile Troy couldn't remember ever receiving from the cold Bolton.

"My boy," Jack finally said. His smile widened, watching Troy's eyes widen. "My son."

First the smile, then the endearments. Which had no sharp, sarcastic venom in his tone. It wasn't his dad's usual behavior, it was the very opposite. Troy wasn't sure if he should be worried about Jack's health or his own.

Jack torn his steady, adoring gaze away from Troy to his liquor cabinet, getting over there to grab two glasses and a flask filled with either whiskey or rum. He poured himself a drink, spiked it with rum-Troy could smell it-from the flask, and stirred. He finished the drink in a gulp and poured himself another one.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Troy," If Troy wasn't so cautious, his jaw was sure to drop. Jack, who mostly referred to him as the weakling or jackass, rarely called by his actual name. His smile was still present on his face, bright and pleasant-looking, as he poured Troy a glass of vodka and passed it over to him. "Would you like a glass?"

He wasn't yelling at him. He was actually smiling at him like Troy was worth something. Calling him by his name. And offering him a drink. Troy definitely was starting to get frightened.

"No thank you." he answered.

Not missing a beat, Jack took the drink and had it for himself, sighing in content when he finished. "That hit the spot."

_My health_, Troy decided. That had to be the thirteenth drink his dad had today, and knew how the game worked. Five and under, expect some yelling and act with caution. Seven to ten, expect not only yelling but some roughing up. More than ten, then simply be prepared. His dad was on his thirteenth and counting, drinking his fourteenth, and knew his health was the one in danger.

After another bright smile, Jack walked over to his shelves and pulled out a picture of himself. The popular Wildcats captain in his basketball uniform, smiling proudly into the camera, basketball tucked under arm. He smiled at the picture, then showed it to Troy. "Me at seventeen. You're seventeen, too, right, son?"

Hesitantly, Troy nodded, but Jack didn't notice. He was too busy staring at the picture, remembering the days of his youth with such clarity like it was only yesterday. "High school definitely was the best four years of my life. But senior year definitely was my best and my favorite. You're a senior, too, right, Troy?"

Again Troy nodded hesitantly.

"Wild parties. Lots to drink. The insane pranks. So much fun, although for me the real fun was happening behind _closed doors_," Without taking his eyes away from Troy, he smiled as he put the picture back. Then, he took slow steps toward him. "The fun included a bedroom as the setting, me, and a pretty girl. Sometimes the girl was your mother, most time it wasn't."

"Dad, I swear to God-" Troy barely had time to react before Jack's steel-hard hands were wrapped around tightly his neck. His grip was so tight, Troy struggled for air.

Pulling his son up by the neck, the older Bolton smiled at his pale face. "Imagine my surprise. I come home and go upstairs myself to remind my son about the pre-Holiday party tonight. And I see my son and a pretty girl having fun on his bed behind _closed doors_. Having_ big fun_,"

His grip tightened, cutting off Troy's air circulation. "And I laughed because I thought to myself, this is so unbelievable. Troy's an idiot, but he couldn't be_ that_ stupid. There is no way he would allow a distraction-a fucking distraction-come between him and basketball. There's no way he'd be that stupid enough to throw away his future, everything we've built and worked hard to get, for a mistake. A mistake that could so easily make him a father and me-_me_-a grandfather at forty-five."

Dots were scattering across his vision, making him weak and pratically blind. He could feel his lungs dying from lack of air. Troy stammered weakly, suffocating, but it made his dad more amused.

"And you know what really took the hit? The pretty girl you were having fun with was no ordinary girl. She was a pretty piece of Spic filth whom you decided should be the one to ruin your future. A whore who'll spread her legs for anyone, break your heart, and take your money. That was the surprise I walked into."

"...Dad?" Troy choked. Too many dots, so little air, such a strong grip to beat. "It-it…was-wasn't…that. We….studying."

Jack brought Troy up close to him, and he nearly gagged from the liquor on his breath. Up close, his eyes was so calm but filled with such crazed fury, practically maddening. "Wrong answer." He growled.

Troy was thrown at the glass table, banging his head against the sharp edge before falling to the ground. There was a sickening crack, and blood dripping onto the carpet.

Jack jumped him, fists smacking against his face, his stomach, his ribs, hitting anything and everywhere.

When Troy came through, Jack was gone, and he was lying on his bed, back in his room.

The first thing he felt was the pain. Severe, brutal, body-numbing pain that was sharp like a whip and spread throughout his body.

The pain was too much, all he could do was lay his head back and suffer through it. It hit at every inch, from head to toe, the throbbing pain powerful like rapid-fire punches. It pained him to breathe, and each time he had to inhale, he whimpered softly.

"_Weak is what you are. Fucking weak!"_

"_Maybe next time you'll think twice before letting filth into my house."_

"_You deserve this! You hear me, you little piece of shit. It's all your fault. Mike would have been alive and successful if it wasn't for you."_

Troy remembered his dad's words, filled with anger and hatred, as he was beaten. He remembered the last thing Jack screamed before knocking him into oblivion with a hard punch to the face. That Mike would have been alive if it wasn't for him.

So it wasn't just because Gabriella was here. It may have been the breaking point, but there was more. It was because it was soon going to be _his_ birthday.

Despite the pain that stung his body with every movement he made, he scooted his body over to the right edge, over to his nightstand. He reached inside, pulled out a small mirror, and looked at his reflection.

His own face was bruised, up to the point of deformation, and bloody. But Troy looked past the bruises, the dry blood, the black eye, and found his face looking back at him. The blue eyes sparkling with life, a warm and easy-going smile forever plastered on his face.

Then the image changed. He didn't see the Mike he remembered. He saw the Mike doctors showed the family at the morgue. Bruised beyond recognition, body badly burnt from the fire, eyes puffy and swollen purple.

"_Mike would have been alive and successful if it wasn't for you." Jack screamed at his bloody face. _

"_How did you like it?" Mike turned away from the road for a second, just a split second, to smile at the eager little boy bouncing in the passenger seat. _

_He couldn't get over what the day he spent in the museum. So many amazing paintings, so many cool models and statues. The new camera Mike gave him, part of his birthday present, was filled with millions of pictures he took today. "Awesome. Thanks for taking me. It was the most-Mike, look out!"_

That was the last thing his brother said to him before he died; asking him how much he liked his birthday present. Something so simple, it was made things even more horrible.

Troy, as hard as he could, threw the mirror against the wall, sickened by the image. If he only seen the first car coming, if only he hadn't convinced Mike to stay longer at the museum even though it was late. Or better yet, if only he hadn't made a big deal about his birthday and Mike's promise about an awesome gift, then his brother would be alive.

_It's all my fault._ Tears rushed to his eyes before he could stop. _If it wasn't for me, Mike would still be okay. If I didn't make a big deal about my stupid gift, Mike wouldn't be dead. _

Once the tears started, there was no way to stop them. There was nothing else Troy could do except cry himself to sleep, hating himself more and more with every tear falling down his face.


	14. Chapter 14

**ET Chapter 14: Past and Perfection…both a bitch**

The next morning, Troy woke up dazed and confused. His body was sore from all the beatings, but the pain somewhat lessened to a bit bearable.

Looking up at his alarm clock, he saw it was fifteen past eight. He nearly jumped out of bed.

He was late. Why didn't his alarm ring early? Why didn't his dad woke up him up for his training? More importantly, why didn't anyone think about coming into his room and waking him up for school?

"God dammit!"

Quickly, he ran into his closest room to throw on the nearest shirt, pants, and shoes his hands could grab, not really seeing but only hoping they went together. Once he was dressed, Troy rushed back to his room, running upstairs to his library. He rushed over to his computer, his twelve page report on the French Revolution waited for him on the laptop. He packed it into his folder, went back downstairs, and stuffed all his binders and books into his backpack.

It was only when he was trying to squeeze everything in while retying his shoes, it hit him. Hit him hard like a punch in the gut.

Gabriella coming here.

His dad catching them in bed together.

His dad falsely adoring him. Treating him as if he was a son to be proud of.

Nearly beating him to death and screaming at him.

That he was weak. _Fucking weak._

He was only a good time away from ruining his future, everything that _they've_ worked for.

He was the reason Mike was dead.

"_Mike would have been alive and successful if it wasn't for you."_

Today was December 14. Mike's Birthday. He would have been twenty two. A lump, hard and painful, emerged in his throat. His backpack slipped off his hand, crashing onto the floor. His things spilled out, shattering all over, but he didn't notice it.

Today was his birthday. As the realization came over again, everything that was churning and colliding in him abruptly stopped.

Stopped. Turned off. As if a switch has been pulled.

Leaving him numb. Completely, one hundred percent numb.

Like a robot, he untied his shoes and placed them under the coffee table. He left his backpack and books on the ground for the maid to get it later. He went back into his closet, his eyes browsing through the shelves until they located that he was looking for: a dirty, ratty EHS sweatshirt hoodie that stuck out like a sore thumb in his perfect, neat arrangement.

It was dirty, had stains with some burns around the torso and the neck, and worn-out. It was the only thing he had left of him that was still warm.

Troy unbuttoned his shirt and zipped up the sweatshirt, wrapping his arms around himself. It was the closest thing he had to a hug from Mike in the longest time. It was his favorite sweatshirt and lucky charm, convinced it had power.

It was ironic. His brother wore this sweatshirt the last night he was alive, but he ended up dead. Because he gave it to Troy, saying he could use it more than him. Somehow the sweatshirt was the only thing that made it out not bad, suffering minor stains and burns.

"_Wouldn't want the birthday boy to catch a cold," he joked, shrugging off his hoodie and helping Troy into it. _

That was two minutes before he died.

Sometimes Troy couldn't help wondering what would have happened if Mike had it on. Would he still be alive? Would the cars never come?

Those were questions he would never have the answer to.

He left his room and went to the elevator, pressing a button. As the doors slide open, he was met by Gregory and Doris's shocked expressions as they took in his appearance. The butler recovered quickly from his shock, But Doris was still dumbfounded.

"What has he done to you?!" she gasped, incredulous.

His scars must really be bad if that was how she was reacting. Probably much worse than he thought.

Almost everyone on staff knew about the abuse going on in the Bolton household. They've heard the screams, seen the scars, and often times wondered if an ambulance was needed. But they never once acted upon it.

It wasn't because they were all heartless. It was because of the master of the house, Jack. The slimy bastard had dirt on every single one of them, some dark scandal from the past or hidden shame that could easily ruin them. So if they squeaked, they were screwed.

Gregory cleared his throat loudly, reminding Doris not to react. She quickly got herself together. He then made some room for Troy in the elevator. Neither one said a word about what he was wearing or the date. They knew better.

"Which floor, Mister Troy?" the butler asked.

"The fourth floor." His zombie-like lips uttered. He felt pointed looks being exchanged behind him, but he didn't care.

Jeffery said nothing and followed the order. They rode down to Mike's floor in complete silence. Troy stepped off and made his way down.

It felt too quiet, too still. It was practically a ghost's town. Troy remembered once, a long time ago, this floor was the loudest area of the house. Loud music practically thumping through the walls. People coming or going that were friends or tutoring students/ His brother's laughter bouncing through the halls.

Troy wanted to hear that laughter so badly. Just one more time.

He made his way past Mike's entertainment theater, hid old toy room, and came to his room. He opened the door slowly and walked inside.

Mike's room was designed as Troy's, but somehow it was more. More posters, more books, more trophies and awards that praised him. But everything was still, so lifeless and empty it was sickening.

No one entered the floor, much less step foot into his room, since the funeral. The servants never came up, his mom didn't set foot into the house for three months, and he dad locked himself up in his office with his liquor. But Troy did.

As horrible and sick as it sounded, every year on Mike's birthday and his own birthday and the day Mike died, Troy would come to the fourth floor. He would come wearing Mike's favorite sweatshirt that survived the crash, lay down on his bed, and remember.

He'd remember Mike since the age of six coming home with countless letters, ribbons, and awards from teachers that were wowed by him.

He'd remember Mike juggling not only basketball and school, but also track, advance college classes, tutoring various kids and peers, volunteering at the local hospital and nursing home, and still be at the top of his class. Number one in the whole school.

His dad always said from the time Mike was one and knowing the alphabet forwards and backwards, he was a little genius. He skipped middle school, graduated from high school early, and was already a junior in U of A at seventeen.

Scouts from professional basketball teams in the US came to games to watch him play. Every team wanted him as their player, but the LA Lakers that won him because it was his favorite team.

His parents were so proud of him, Jack especially. Yet as proud as Jack was of him, he wasn't completely satisfied. With Jack, good was never good enough. It wasn't even an opinion. You had to be the best, the best of the best. He made sure Mike was during twice as much, even though it was already than enough for someone to die from the exhaustion.

Whenever Mike would come over, he looked like he was ready to collapse any second. He looked that tired, as if he hadn't slept in weeks. He spent more time sleeping than doing anything else.

Troy remembered how tired Mike was when he came home for his twelfth birthday. He was so tired, even his bags had bags under his eye lids and was out of it. So tired, he told Troy he couldn't give him present.

"_But you promised!" He knew he sounded like a whiny brat, but he couldn't help it. Mike was breaking a promise. That was something so shocking like a priest burning his own Bible. _

"_Troy," His mom leaned over and put her hand over his, using her soothing baby voice on him. "You need to be considerate. Your brother needs to rest."_

_Considerate? He needs to be considerate?! He stared at his mother, stunned. Despite how he came off, he did understand. He always understood Mike's needs. He hid his disappointment every time Mike had to miss out on his own important events. Tried to ignore his parents giving all their attention and love to his brother with none left for him. This time, though, why couldn't something for once be for him?_

_Today was his birthday, his day, but it didn't feel like that. His parents have been gone all day, Lucille spending hours working on a new shade and Jack training Mike. He was left alone to have himself a small breakfast buffet, accepted the few calls from relatives who remembered the date, and ordered his cake. _

"_Besides," his mom continued. "It's only an art exhibit. That's nothing compare to the many wonderful gifts you have today."_

"_It's not just a museum!" It was a whole new museum altogether, featuring great treasures and painting from over hundred of years ago. Not to mention an exhibit featuring his favorite artist, Francisco de Goya that had some of his first and very best works. Just seeing one of those pictures, being able to capture them on his camera, meant more to him than all the basketballs, game consolations, money, and gift cards combined. _

_His mom waved a dismissive hand, his words falling onto deaf ears. His dad became annoyed and said pointedly "It's a museum that will be here even_ after_ your birthday."_

_Right. Code for drop it. Now. _

_Troy turned back to Mike, who gave him an apologetic glance while listening to hid dad's review of his performance. Looked at his mother, who was on the phone with an employee about a possible new makeup line for Halloween. His appetite was gone in an instant, and he left the table. _

_Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, the newly turned twelve year old thought as he went up to his room. _

Sadly, his birthday didn't improve after that. It only worsened as the years went by. For his seventeenth birthday, with Mom on business and Jack drinking himself to a coma in his study, he was forced to come up with something.

Oddly enough, he was doing the same thing he did on his birthday on his brother's.

After dinner was cleared and everyone went to their rooms, Mike came up to his room, baring two slices of cake. Handing his little brother a slice, he told him to hurry up and get changed.

"_Why?" he asked. _

"_Because," Mike's blue eyes sparkled, making him look less worn-out and more like his old self again. "We're going to the museum."_

They had such a good time, possibly the most they had for a long time. Mike was still tired, though. There were some times Troy would find his nodding off, his heavy eyes dropping. Still, his brother was stubborn and refused to cut their time short, showing how much he cared and what a good brother he was.

So why again did he have to die?  
>**********<p>

For three straight days Troy was a zombie. A zombie whose body has been practically attached to his bed.

He didn't answer calls from the staff, left all the trays of food Doris brought him by the door, untouched. He didn't bother to reply from his friends' messages and missed calls. He hadn't heard from either one of his parents.

None of it mattered to him because he was so numb. He didn't feel anything, didn't think. All he did was to breathe and remember. When he was numb, he could think about his brother without agony and anger tearing him down. He remembered every memory he had of his brother without feeling the least bit guilty.

He wondered if this numbness was the same thing addicts feel when they inject drugs into their system. That nothing could get to you, hurt you, made you feel like your problems were dimensions away.

If that was the case, then he understood why people experimented. Understood why people get addicted so easily. Because the feeling, this numbness, this high, was unlike anything. And amazing.

Sadly though, like most thins, nothing lasted forever. Not people, not a buzz, and definitely not numbness.

The next morning Troy woken up, feeling so cold. Achingly, numbing cold like he was stark naked in the coldest parts of the North Pole. The warm blanket that protected, felt so soothing and numbed, was gone, leaving him so exposed and vulnerable.

There was nothing to protect, nothing to cancel out the feelings. Cold reality set in and its cruelty stung like sharp whips. Everything hurt now, his head, his body, and there he was nothing he could do.

Tray ran out of Mike's room, down the hall, into the elevator as if the ceilings were seconds away from collapsing on him. He couldn't handle being in his room, couldn't handle being in the hallway, it felt like such a ghost town.

There was no one in the room, which he was thankful for. Once he got to his room, he went into the closest and tore Mike's sweatshirt, stuffing it deep into the depths of his clothes, never to be seen again. He slipped on a white t-shirt and then went back into his room.

The coffee table and the furniture were complete covered in shopping bags. Lots of shopping bags. Attached to the smallest box at the top of the present was a note from his mom.

_Troy, _

_Every time I come to Europe, I never want to leave. There is simply too much to do here, so much excitement. And in case the packages in your room weren't a subtle hint, too many amazing things to buy. _

_Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself. There's going to be a slight change in our Christmas plans. We'll be going to the Caribbean but after we go to New York to see a show. A client gave me tickets, and it's called the Birth of the Anointed. So bring a good suit to wear (after all we are expected to look presentable). _

_-Mom_

No questions asking him about his well-being. No indication that she missed him. She didn't even bother to attach "Love" to mom.

In other words, it was a normal letter from his mom. She hadn't contacted him since the fiasco Thanksgiving dinner, and this was all she had to say.

Too fucking typical.

Crumbling the note in his hands, Troy tossed it into the wastebasket, making a perfect shot. He was suddenly felt so restless. He needed to do something, anything, and knew he couldn't stay here.

He got himself showered, dressed, and packed the necessities into his bag. His new Fujifilm GA645 camera and extra film. Today, with the snow storm coming in close, seemed like a good day to take pictures.

The park was the perfect place for him to go.

Every one, including his friends, would be at school so he didn't have to worry about questions about where he was for the past three days. And about certain scathes he couldn't hide.

There were plenty of pictures to take. True, it wasn't exactly full like it would on a weekend, but there were definitely a lot of people there. Teenagers near his age playing hokey chilling out, some little kids with their parents or family members were there having snowball fights, people performing tricks on the ice-rank, sliding down the hills on their sleighs, basically having their fun.

At the smallest hill, hidden away by the trees, two brothers on top with their sleigh caught Troy's attention. A boy who was probably eight or nine was helping his brother, who looked about five, on. The little boy seemed horrifed when he looked down, and tried to get off.

"Trust me," Troy heard the older brother said as he walked over to them. "It's going to be fine."

"I don't know, Paul," replied the small one, unconvinced. "It's too high."

"This is the level one slope, bro," 'Paul' explained patiently. "Once you make it down this, you can ride any slope."

The little boy bit his bottom lip nervously, looking down the hill again. "You promise it's not going to be scary."

"I promise." Paul smiled.

"_I promise," Mike had said when he placed Troy in front of the sleigh and sat behind him. _

Troy shook his head, glancing over at Paul. For a second, he could have swore he saw a familiar sparkling in his eyes he recognized anywhere. Troy shook his head again, trying to clear his mind. A pack of emotions struck him swiftly, but he managed to pass them aside the same time the brothers were riding down the hill.

He made sure to shoot every second of it, recording the scared boy's face from frightened to excitement. Excitement that matched the satisfaction on his older brother's face.

"I did it!" he cried excitedly. "I did it!"

"I knew you could-" Paul didn't get to finish his sentence. His little brother jumped on him, knocking him into the snow.

Laughing, they got themselves off the ground and raced over to the bigger hills.

Troy snapped one more picture of them, smiling but feeling so weird inside. The moment was quickly broken though, when he felt something small but hard hitting him on the back of the head.

"Fuck!" he cried out. He rubbed his head, glancing down at the offender. An acorn.

Another one suddenly hit again. Harder.

"What the fuck!" There was no one else in the area except him. There was no way they could be falling at random.

"It's funny. A teenage boy snapping pictures of little kiddies," Troy looked up. Gabriella was lounging on a high branch, her eyes focusing on her book while she continued to talk. "Practically playing fire with all these parents around who won't hesitate to clue the police in on a possible pedophile."

Montez. He should have known. Though he was curious to know why she decided to use his head for acorn practice, he asked her "Is there a reason why you're here?"

"Isn't there a reason for everything, pup?" She licked her finger and flipped to the next page.

Smartass, he thought. Maybe that should be his nickname for her. Seems to be perfect fit. "I'm really not in the mood for smart-ass comments. What are you doing here?"

Taking her eyes off her book, she gestured her hand toward the oak tree she was sitting on. "Just hanging around, as you can see."

He scowled at her and she smirked at him. He tried another question. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Shouldn't you?" she shot back, the smirk gone.

He had no answer to that one, so he kept his mouth shut. Self-consciously, he rubbed his face. Despite the ice-packs he kept on for the past three days, the baseball cap, and hoodie, he felt his scars were visible. Like bright, neon red lights calling everyone's attention to them.

"I wasn't feeling well." he mumbled.

When he looked up again, Gabriella wasn't playing attention to him anymore. She was back to reading. He was positive she didn't hear him, until she said "You're not looking so hot either."

"What's your excuse?"

She stared at him and turned herself around, dangling her legs off the branch. Then suddenly, she fell back.

"Gabriella." Troy started towards her, but stopped. Her bag was hanging off the last branch close to him. Gabriella stood on her hands the next branch lower than the one she was previously on, smirking at his shocked expression.

Her feet swinging into a flip, she flipped and swung her way down like an acrobat, standing next to him in five seconds flat.

"Didn't think I could do I could that, did you?" she said.

"Yeah," He grabbed her bag and tossed it to her. "Gabriella Montez tree climber. Good to know."

He sat down at a bench and checked his camera. He needed to do know something with his hands so he wouldn't feel awkward.

Gabriella sat down besides him. She took out her head phones and picked a song on her black iPod classic. Sitting back, she bobbed her head lightly to the music while she read her book and had herself a cigarette.

Troy tried to suppress his cough. He glanced at the book in her hands. _When The Stars Go Blue_ was the title. The front cover was completely black with a girl. Her back was turned, the back of her head facing him. Her dark hair was tied into a bun with a fully-bloomed, vivid red rose in her hair.

"You were thinking about your brother, weren't you?"

He nearly dropped his camera. He didn't dare look up at Gabriella, and turned his face away.

How was it possible this girl knew what he was thinking about? Or a better question would be why was it every time they meet; she seems to know more about him than he does about her?

Gabriella continued "You had that look in your eyes. Like your body was here, but your mind was in the past. I'm guessing Mike taught you how to ride a sleigh like that brother did."

He did in fact. And Troy was the same age as that small boy, but he wasn't going to tell her that. "You always so good at reading people."

Her signature smirk spread across her lips. "Since I'm so good at reading books, it only makes more sense if I can read people. Especially those who have the tendency to not only blush easily, but amuse me,"

Right on cue, scarlet red colored his face. He made sure his head stayed to the right side.

"For instance, you're not looking at me because you're worried I'm right and don't want to give me the satisfaction. Your jaw's tightening because I'm now annoying you. Your cheeks are becoming warmer and redder because I'm embarrassing you."

Damn her. He still refused to turn, his jaw was tight and his cheeks burnt.

"You still didn't answer my question. Why are you here?"

Gabriella took her time sucking in the smoke and blowing it out. "I'm leaving." she finally answered.

"What?" The word blurted out of his mouth before he could control himself. He turned back to her.

"I've leaving." she repeated.

Troy didn't know what to say. What could he say? That he was glad? Upset? He also didn't know what to think, particularly about the strange ache churning in his stomach.

She rolled her eyes and explained "I'm not leaving forever, idiot. Sadly," She sighed heavily, blowing out another stream of smoke. "One could only dream. I'm leaving early for vacation. My dance troupe performs a Broadway show in New York for the holidays."

"Oh." Was it odd he felt a twinge of relief lighting up inside? Troy didn't want to think about it. "Have a good trip."

She nodded absent-mindedly, cigarette in between her fingers and mind lost in deep thoughts. Thoughts her face didn't let on.

"At least you're going home, right?"

Her face instantly darkened with a frown. She muttered something in Spanish he wasn't able to make out, but it didn't sounded good.

They sat on the bench together in silence, close to each other to feel body heat radiating from the other but also at a safe distance. Troy snapping pictures once in awhile, Gabriella chain-smoking and reading.

After he shot a picture of a pair of skaters, one high in the air and the other ready to catch her, he looked over at Gabriella. She switched from reading to writing, her pen racing words across the pages, smoke escaping her mouth.

Before he could help himself, the flash went off and the picture was taken.

Gabriella looked up from her journal, not saying. Not glaring. Only looking, her eyes unreadable but enthralling.

The flash went off again.

He was the one who suggested the zoo.

After spending almost three hours at the park, Troy still hadn't lost his restlessness. He thought the cure would be a new location. But this time he decided to have a partner.

For some reason he wanted Gabriella to be there. Maybe it was because she owned him after hitting his head with acorns. Maybe it was because she was one to never press for questions. Or maybe it was because he just wanted her near.

And of that wasn't weird enough, she actually accepted. Apparently, she still had five hours to go for her catch her flight, so she felt like burning time.

"Even if it means spending time with you, pup," she said, pinching Troy's hard, smirking at his scowl.

The Auburn Park zoo was very spacious, with more exhibits being adding, and was packed with people. Even on a snowy, cold December day. Course, there was construction going around and some area restricted, but the zoo was still a good place to be.

Troy's camera was filled with photos of the animals, the kids and the excited faces, the action going on(as much as you can get in a zoo), anything that was worth to be recorded on film.

Besides him, Gabriella was silent. Looking over at the animals, ignoring the pointed looks people gave her for smoking. He'd sometimes ask her a question, and she'd give a one-word answer.

"I haven't been here since I was a kid." Since he was maybe six or seven.

Gabriella simply shrugged. He didn't know what to make of it.

She didn't seem to be in the mood for talking much, but he also wasn't in the mood for awkward silence. So the only opinion was to keep taking and hoping she was at least listening.

"I still don't mind it," he shrugged himself. "I mean I like animals and all. My favorite when I was a kid were dragons. Which explains why every book I read and owed were about knights fighting them. Now, I guess, it would have to be dogs, puppies."

Amusement appeared in her eyes, followed by a smirk as she quickly looked over at him.

Troy frowned, confused. Did he say something off? "What about you?"

Maybe now she'll feel like talking.

Shrugging again, the Latina stomped on her cigarette, her ninth of the day. "Zoos were never really my thing. I don't mind animals, though."

"So which was your favortie?"

"I have five favorites. Starting backwards, ravens would have to be my fifth favorite. Monkeys would be my fourth, then snakes, and cats."

Troy may not have understood the other three favorites, but he got the cat one. Cats, though most act pamper and spoiled, prefer being on their own. Could sometimes be friendly and most of the time unfriendly. And were flexible, an ability he knew first-hand Gabriella possessed.

"So what-" Gabriella suddenly looked over his shoulder, and turned left, into a corridor that was restricted for the day.

"Gabriella!" She didn't turn back, but he could feel her smirk as she blended into the darkness. He looked around, seeing everyone going their way and minding their business, and sighed. He had no choice but to go after her.

It was like going into a cave. Nothing but pure blackness. Somewhere, in the darkness, was his partner. His partner who obviously possessed night-vision since she was able to see her way around. Troy only had the sounds of her footsteps to guide him, but she walked so fast his ears stained to hear the sound.

"Gabriella!" Her name bounced off the walls like an echo. "Gabriella!"

He heard laughter, soft but unmistakably hers.

"This isn't funny!"

Her response was more laughter.

After walking for what felt like hours, Troy turned left and went straight ahead. He finally saw a hint of light all the way across the other side, coming from a closed exhibit.

Exhibit of a silver and black wolf that was said to be deadly. Troy something about that from the local paper. Because of so many requests, the zoo decided to add wolves to their family. Only problem was the wolves aren't exactly the world's nicest animals, so zookeepers needed three months to tame it.

But it didn't seem to matter one bit to Gabriella.

By the time Troy finally caught up with her, she was inside the exhibit. It was done almost like a mini forest. Some dirt and soil, long, and cave. Gabriella stood right in front of the cave, beckoning the beast to come out, not realizing her life might be in danger.

A pair of grayish-blue eyes appeared, blazing vividly against the darkness. A loud, vicious growl made its way through the cave, through the glass, to Troy's ears. He was paralyzed with fear.

Gabriella was still there, beckoning and waiting.

The wolf slowly left its home and came out, into the light. Troy had seen plenty of wolves before in books and movies and TV, but they were two dimensional and tiny. This wolf was huge, almost as big as a bear, its colors black as midnight and moon-silver, sharp fangs bared and deadly malice written across its face.

To say it looked anger would be like saying the Civil War was a tiny disagreement. It was enraged and looked thirsty for blood. The cold, deadly eyes stared at Gabriella, as if she were its' prey, and pounced.

"Gabriella!" Without a second thought, Troy barged into the room, not caring about anything else but her.

To find the wolf cuddling against her.

Troy was flabbergasted. The wolf, who looked like it wanted her head five seconds ago, was acting like a puppy. Gabriella kneeled forward in front of the animal, her head buried in the nape of it's' neck, hands caressing the fur. The wolf rested its' head on her shoulder and nuzzled against her, looking content.

"What the fuck?" he whispered.

Hearing his voice, the wolf switched from content to territorial, standing in front of the girl and baring sharp fangs at him, growling.

"Easy boy," Troy held his hands in surrender and tried to remain calm. His actions only seemed to make the wolf angrier.

"Come over, girl," Both the wolf and boy looked up at Gabriella, who was beckoning the wolf. "Come on."

The "female" dog seemed to growl in protest, but lowered her eyes when Gabriella's eyes became firm. She turned back to growl at Troy one more time, making it count, before coming back to Gabriella's arms. The moment her arms were wrapped around the wolf, she went from being angry to relaxing once again.

"That's a good girl." Gabriella patted her head, and then laid her head back on the wolf's neck.

The blackness of Gabriella's hair blended into the wolf's dark fur. The animal nestled against her as she held her tighter, eyes closed.

It was too good of a photo opportunity to pass up. He then took another when they turned over to him, unreadable expressions on their faces. It was funny to him, because they almost looked like they were one person.

Gabriella burst into another round of laughter again as they walked into Burger King. The more Troy glared at her, the harder and louder she laughed.

"It's not funny, Montez." He said for the thousandth time.

"Oh, yes it is," she replied again, for the thousandth time. "Got tricked by a pair of monkeys was bad enough. But getting your ass beaten by the mother was fucking rich."

She was referring to the little incident that happened at the zoo's monkey area. Troy was trying to get a few pictures of the new infants, and things were going well. Until two slightly older monkeys decided to take his camera. One jumped on his face, tearing his hair and banging on his head while the other snatched the camera. The two little monsters ran up the tree and played catch with his camera, laughing at his expanse like everyone else.

There were no zookeepers to turn to, so he had to up the tree himself, ignoring the laughter and catcalls behind him.

He was so close, too. He would have gotten his camera back. If the brother monkey hadn't decided to shit on his head, weakening him by the powerful stench. If that wasn't humiliating enough, the mother yanked him off the tree, wrested him onto the ground, and then tossed him head-first into the poop pile, which was extra big and foul that afternoon.

Safe to say, he looked and smelt like shit by the time the two flustered-looking zookeepers finally came. Troy had to be stripped down to his boxers in the freezing cold, and then hosed down in front of everyone, who recorded the whole ordeal on their phones, including Gabriella who nearly died from laughter.

"Look at the bright side, pup," Gabriella shrugged innocently, though her smirk was anything but. "They gave free clothes and neat souvenirs as 'sorry we weren't able to help because we were too busy thrusting and reaching climaxes in the janitor's closet.'"

A mother in her late forties with a small boy glared at Gabriella, who smirked at her, and then at Troy before taking her son.

"Mommy, what does thrusting mean?" he asked innocently.

"You always this smooth with words?" Troy watched them go, the mother pointedly ignoring his question.

"It's among my many talents." She winked at him and gave the cashier her order. "A large Double whopper meal, two Hershey pies, and 4-piece cinnamon rolls."

The unfortunate acne-faced, short cashier and Troy did a double take at her.

"Did you get that?" she barked at the cashier, who blushed and quickly typed it in.

Troy ordered for himself a North Carolina BBQ meal, and once they got their food and sodas they took their seats.

Gabriella wasted no time digging into her meal. She took a huge bite of her whooper, miraculously not spilling anything or straining her clothes, and moved onto her fries.

Staring was wrong and he knew he shouldn't do it. But he couldn't help it. He never had seen a girl eat so…bluntly. Most eat a small meal, barely anything, or have a salad like Sharpay.

"Why don't you take a picture? It will last longer." she commented.

He blushed and quickly took a bite of his burger, avoiding her eyes. "Sorry," he swallowed. "It's just that…"

Her left eyebrow shot up questioningly.

"You're a dancer."

Gabriella's eyebrow went higher. "Point being?"

"Point being, well, I thought most dancers don't eat."

The sound that came out from her mouth was a cross between a snort and chuckle. She drank some soda to calm herself down, an amused expression on her face. "Pup, do I look like most dancers?"

To make her point, Gabriella got up and stood beside him. His eyes traveled up and down her body, studying it. Her small size, dangerous curves, full breasts, muscular and lean legs. His mind went back to all the dancers he seen perform in shows his mom dragged him to, taller than her, so thin and skinny.

"No," he shook his head. "You don't have that skeletal, insect look. You're perfect."

Realizing what he said, he blushed and looked away. Why was it his mouth seemed to have a mind of his own today?

Gabriella sat back down on his seat, propped her elbow up, and stared at him. He glanced up, seeing a sudden look appearing and disappearing from her eyes.

Her expression softened a bit. "You're a real chip off the old block, aren't you, pup?"

He almost smiled at her, but then remembered something. Something that had been bugging him since Sunday night and hovering around his mind like a ghost. The way his dad treated Gabriella, nearly beat him to death, and the goals he couldn't forget.

No distractions, his obedient side said, reminding him of all his hard work and the beatings. Across from him, Gabriella, finished with her burger, was having her fries.

This wasn't going to be easy, but it had to be done for both his sake and hers. He really didn't want to, but the stakes were too high. "Gabriella, there's something I need to talk to you about."

She swallowed down her fries, leaned back into her chair, and folded her arms.

"Well," Where would he even begin? He rubbed his neck nervously. "I want to apologize for what happened. And what my dad said."

"No es gran cosa." she said.

"Excuse me?"

Gabriella rolled her eyes and translated "It's no big deal."

"It's a very big deal!" he insisted. "What he said was way out of line."

"Pup, I dealt with things a hundred times bigger and meaner than nasty cock-sucker general Jack Bolton."

"Here's the thing…" He paused, thinking of his next words. "It's just…my dad, U of A. Being the best is the only way in my family. Nothing less than a hundred and ten percent. I have to be the best. I can't afford to get distracted."

Before he could say another word, Gabriella cut him off, her face hardening. "Come out with it, pup."

"I think…we should end this. Keep things on a professional level. Be partners but nothing else-"

"You're a coward." She cut him off again, getting up and grabbing her things.

"Gabriella, you don't-"

"Understand," she finished with a sharp smile on her face. "I do, pup. I'm a horrible distraction, a bad influence. You wouldn't want dear Daddy-kins to think you have control of your life."

Okay, now she was going too far. "You have no right-"

"Eres un cobarde. Una verdadera mierda cobarde que no tiene las bolas para contar la polla-lechón no eres su marioneta." Again more Spanish.

She left the restaurant, but he went right after her. "You don't know what its like-"

She turned back to him, and he nearly stumbled on his feet by the sudden stop. "Actually, pup, I do. The funny thing is I actually do. To be put down constantly by someone who's suppose to love and take care of you. To feel so worthless and useless. Be reminded how wonderful things would be if you weren't around. To be thought of as a failure,"

Troy stared at her, baffled.

"But I don't dwell on it. I don't try to win a wasted person's approval of me. Because guess what? It's never going to change. You could cure the cancer, end global warning, and become the biggest thing in the world, but it still won't matter. You're still nothing but shit to them."

She shook her head, sighing. "The sad part is you already know this. You know your dad will never give you the time of day even if you became the new and improved Mike. But you still try. You still fucking try even though there's nothing to prove. And that's just plain sad."

With that, the lone-wolf beauty let him alone in the parking lot, without looking back once.


	15. Chapter 15

**ET Chapter 15: Where the home is?**

People have different opinions of airports. Some loved it, especially new timers, because it brought a new of adventure. Some hated it for various reasons. The excruciating waiting, paying extra fees for luggage when you were a bag or ounce away from the limit, the air sickness that came along with the flight. Et certa, et certa, et certa.

Gabriella was on the neutral side on the topic of airports. Though she didn't mind the actual flying itself, she wasn't a big fan of waiting forever to get to her plane. She also wasn't a big fan of the food itself that really didn't taste (or sometimes resemble) food, or going through the long flight.

She always came equipped for the long journeys: her iPod, her journal along with a backup in case she used up all her pages, several books, and chocolate. She bought two packs of Dove and Cadbury chocolate at the airport's CVS before her flight number was called.

She also had company along with her this time. Rob was heading back to home for the holidays, so they were able to get a flight to Boston together. He'd head straight to his parents'' house in Jamaica Plain while she'd catch a train to New York.

"So, let me get this straight-" Gabriella paused her movie. She was watching Sucker Punch on her iPod, getting to the part where Babydoll sliced the baby dragon's neck and Rocket looked away, trying not to puke at the nastiness. She turned on the movie when Rob fell asleep over an hour ago and there were no good movies on the TV. Now he was awake and was back to what he did best: bugging her. "Your dog basically dismissed you from your company duties."

Gabriella switched off her iPod, elbowed him hard in the gut, and scowled at her friend. Maybe the words seemed harmless in Rob's mind, but they took on a whole different meaning when they came out from his mouth. "Ain't nobody dismissed me, Robbie. Much less some scrawny little puppy who's afraid of his own shadow."

She wanted to wipe the smirk off his face. Well, actually, she wanted to more so punch it. But she chose the mature path and turned her attention back to her movie. Rob's amusement sobered up a bit and he nudged her shoulder.

"Scrawny little pup or not, he's still an ass for doing that to you." he said.

She rolled her eyes, but she wasn't as annoyed as she was before. Rob was right. Pup was an ass, an ass and coward. There was no reason for her to care, much less give them a second thought. It wasn't as if they were friends.

Sighing, Gabriella shrugged Rob off her and ran hand a through her hair. "Already forgotten. Besides, this is my winter vacation, and I plan on hanging loose when I get to New York. I have a million and one things I plan to do."

"And I can already think of one." Rob grabbed her close, humped against her, and groaned loudly, imitating a high-pitched girl's voice. "Yes, yes. Right there! Right there!"

"_Cerado!_" Gabriella laughed despite herself, pushing her horny friend away from her. Although Rob was a pervert, he wasn't wrong per say. If there happened to be a cute guy at some of the clubs who managed to get her attention, there was a chance she wasn't returning back empty-handed.

Their laughter caught the attention of a young attendant, who was a serving an older man two rows up. She was a pretty Asian with glossy black hair styled in a cute bob. She looked up at them, did a double take at Rob, and blushed lightly as she caught his eye. Biting her bottom lip, she returned her attention back to the man she was helping.

"And I think I found my partner." Rob whispered, pleased.

"Pig." she repeated herself, saying it in English.

He winked, and kept his eyes on the pretty stewardess. When she came to their row and asked if there was anything they needed, Rob gestured her to come closer and whispered in her ear. He didn't talk long. Winking at the girl again, smiling at her extremely flushed face, Rob causally made his way over to the restroom. A second or two later, the girl followed in his suit, looking both nervous and excited.

_See it, lure it, and you have it. _Mr. Don Juan Lewis had done it again.

Shaking her head, Gabriella returned to her movie. Later, as Blue walked into the girls' celebration of getting the second item off the list; she lowered her iPod and thought about what was going to await her in New York.

Her schedule was already packed. The Nativity Story once again sold out, so Cultural Blend would be performing a full audience of eight thousand people four nights a week. Her mornings filled with four to six hours of practices and rehearsals that had to be done over and over again. Her nights full with performing. And extra rehearsals and practices squeezed in between.

Thankfully, she had Sundays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays off. She was going to catch up with some reading at her favorite café, do some shopping, explore, and definitely hit the clubs.

All and all, she was going to have fun.

And nothing, especially not blue-eyed pups or demons that were lurking in the shadows, were going to ruin that.

* * *

><p>Gabriella calmly made her way inside the studio, tying her hair into a bun, not at all worried about the time. Sure, she was a bit late, though some might not take two and a half hours as a bit late, but she had good reasons.<p>

It took forever for her flight to get to Boston because of bad communication. Then, her train went through a two-hour delay, thanks to confusion. She had to change in the train's restroom, which was cramp and small and reeked of shit and piss.

Nodding at some of the people she passed through that who called at her name, Gabriella noticed a list posted across the dance studio, where the rest of the dancers were going through warm-ups. The casting list to the Nativity Story, printed in fresh blue paper.

She glanced back at the dancers lined up in barras, practicing their plies, and then glanced at the list again. The minute the directors released them, the list were be surrounded by eager dance-maniacs, pushing and shoving each other, trying to get a peek at who was who. Hoping to see their name next to a great part. It was natural quantity in a dancer.

Since everyone was busy practicing and she was here all alone with the list, it seemed only fair she took the opportunity to see it.

_Definitely fair_, she thought. She walked over to the list, her dark eyes skimming through the names.

Emmanuel BarDell would be the pharaoh.

Cynthiana DeTwan and Mark Davis, an actually couple in real life, as Mary and Joseph.

Gabriel Pierce, the very delicious French-native that joined last summer, as the angel Gabriel.

Her eyes scanned down till she found her name. Gabriella Montez…the Northern Star. It was a very amazing role, being one of the very few solos and one of few starring moments. A role many of the female, and some male, dancers have been after. A role that was given to her.

Gabriella felt a sense of pride.

As she heard the soft sound of the music coming to an end, she quickly made her way inside. Making sure she wasn't seen, she ran over to the iPod deck hidden in the back, holding Madame's iPod. The moment the song was over, she switched it with hers and played Rihanna's _Where Have You Been. _

_I've been everywhere, man  
>Looking for someone<br>Someone who can please me  
>Love me all night long<br>I've been everywhere, man  
>Looking for you babe<br>Looking for you babe  
>Searching for you babe<br>_

Startled by the sudden song, heads turned to the back, where a smirking Gabriella was waving at their stunned faces. Not minding the attention, Gabriella confidently walked up to the center of the room, noticing several dancers following behind her.

_Where have you been  
>Cause I never see you out<br>Are you hiding from me, yeah?  
>Somewhere in the crowd<br>_

At the snap of her fingers, Gabriella led her dance group through the song with a blend of African and Caribbean moves Debbie taught them two summers ago, ending with a double flip and landing perfectly on her feet, dropping to her knees.

"Gabriella Montez, everybody!" Bruno laughed, his clapping the most energetic out of the applause. He shut off her iPod and hugged her tightly, lifting her off the ground. His grip tightened as he felt her struggling. "Glad to see my favorite hot tamela still has some spice in her."

"Funny," Gabriella wheezed, half-struggling in her arms and allowing him to hug her. "I'm pretty sure you're squeezing the spice out of me."

Laughing again, Bruno set her down, but not before laying two wet pecks on her cheeks. He quickly moved away before she could elbow him. "And still feisty as ever."

"And still fashionably late as always." Gabriella smirked before looking back at Len, who frowned at her lateness.

She batted her lashed innocently, putting on a sweet voice. "Me being late keeps the world from chaos. And we wouldn't want it to tilt over if something messed with the natural order, now would we, Len?"

Everyone couldn't help but laugh, even Len though he was trying to keep a straight face. But the laughter was cut short by the loud sound by a tap that sounded more like thunder. The dancers turned back to the familiar redhead director who wasn't as amused as the others.

Dark chestnut cane in hand, eyes narrowed coolly, Madame Gorksi was a force to be reckoned with. If the company was ranked as an army, she would the top, legendary commander and general who had only two side to her: strict and mean, which was too hard to handle, and downright nasty and strict if you got on her bad side. As head director, she decided every dancer's part in every dance. In other words, she pretty much decided the fate of every dancer in the company.

Judging by the ice-frostiness in her eyes quickly turning icy, Gabriella knew she got on Madame's bad side. Again.

"Remind me, Miss Montez," the Polish woman said her name slowly, scolding her. "Was my email not clear? Did I or did I not make it perfectly clear I wanted you to be here _on time_?"

Gabriella knew it wasn't a question; still she felt the need to plead her case, at least for her own entertainment. "Madame, you know inconvenient Americans can be with their tardiness and laziness. Also, I needed to make presentable for rehearsals." She gestured toward the leotard and white tights-clad body. "I wouldn't want to give people the wrong impression that the dancers don't take themselves seriously."

Shaking her head, Madame said "Dancers, take break. You, Miss Montez, stay behind. We have things to discuss."

Sure enough, the second the dancers were freed, they rushed outside to the casting list. In less than five seconds, Gabriella heard cries of excitement and frustration. The loudest one she heard, a cross between a crying fit and cursing scream, came from Tracy Bell, her rival since their ballerina Tiny-Tot days. Tracy believed she was the primadonna ballerina, who deserved every great part, including the Northern Star.

A part that was bestowed to Gabriella.

The rebellious Latina couldn't contain her smirk, hearing the prima-diva's screaming and cursing, but tried to keep it to a minimum as Madame stomped her cane again, demanding her attention.

"Have long have you been dancing for me, Miss Montez?"

"For eleven years."

"Then you know how I feel about tardiness."

It was the top thing she didn't tolerate. Nothing angered the Madame more than someone arriving late. A minute late to someone was half an hour to her.

Gabriella was calmly still as Madame walked in a circle around her, saying "Since you missed two hours of practice, I think it's only fair that you make it for the lost time with a full day practice today and tomorrow."

So much for her plans for sleeping in late. She'd be practicing until nine, and then tomorrow she'd be here at seven in the morning and leave at the same time.

She pulled away from her thoughts as she heard the rest of Madame's words. "Miss Bell came to me, and thought I should re-think my casting choice. She says if a dancer can't do something simple such as coming to rehearsal on time, then it shows how very little she's committed to dancing,"

Her brow raised lightly, the only indication Gabriella was caught off guard. She made a note to herself to get back Little Miss Snuck-up Prissy later. Right now, she had to deal with the fact Madame was questioning her love for dancing. A love she of all people knew how much meant the world to her. How it was one of the rare things in life that actually brought her any joy.

Madame stopped right in her, studying her intently. Gabriella put on her best poker face, expressionless and cool, revealing nothing. "It then made me rethink about what it means to be a dancer. How one shines from the thousands of others who strive for the same thing. How one can exactly show their commitment to something that offers no exact guarantee. And I finally reached a decision."

She surprised her young student by lifting her chin up, meeting her eyes directly on her, allowing a soft smile to smoothen the harsh lines on her faces, which instantly made her look even more striking. Unearthly beautiful in a way. "Miss Montez, you have many flaws within. It's typical for any person. Even for a dancer, there's not one that doesn't carry one fault in some way or another. Though you have difficulty with punctuality, you have qualities within Miss Bell failed to mention," Her hand moved over to Gabriella's cheek, which she held gently, in a mother-like affectionate style. "The heart, which is the most crucial, most important part of a dancer."

"A dancer's ability can only go far. It's her heart and her spirit that decide how far." Gabriella recited Madame's famous saying she practically drilled into every student's head from the second they entered her dance academy. She made it clear to them it took more than good feet and perfection to make a perfect dancer. A perfect dancer was one with the unique technique, style, but more importantly was the passion that was shown through the dances.

It then hit Gabriella what her teacher was telling her. She smiled at Madame, who nodded approvingly with a gleam in her eye. "And you, my little _wolny duch,_ have all those qualities and more that shows to me you're clearly committed to your dancing."

With that said, the stern hard-core ballet teacher melted away into the familiar mother figure. Gabriella did little to resist walking into Madame's open arms and holding her tightly, feeling Madame's arms wrap around her with the same measure of fierceness. She allowed herself to relish in the warmth that came from the feeling.

"I've missed you, Madame." she murmured so quietly it was almost inaudible.

Gabriella couldn't see Madame's nod, but she felt it. She also felt in as Madame tightened her hold on her, and patted her head, stroking her hair.

"And I've missed you as well."

* * *

><p>Gabriella eased herself onto the black leather recliner, pulling the chair back and propping her feet up. She had all but collapsed into pure exhaustion, her body aching from the intense eight hour rehearsals.<p>

Back at Albuquerque, a certain someone she chose not to call by name thought she was hard-core. Although Gabriella prided herself in being a dancing manic, that was nothing compared to Madame Gorksi. A person would know the true meaning of_ pain_ by the time she was done with them. And that was only warm-ups. Going beyond that, with her guidance, you'll feel so tired and in so much pain you'd wonder to yourself why not end it.

The said woman came back into the living room, carrying an ice-pack in one hand while balancing a tray consisting of a kettle of hot tea, two cups, and Holiday-themed sugar cookies in the other. She handed Gabriella a cup she filled with honey-scented tea and the ice, and then took her seat in the couch across from her.

"_Thank you_, Madame." Gabriella pressed the ice against her ankle that was aching and swollen from all the twirling and leaping she put it through.

Madame nodded her head slightly, accepting her gratitude. She poured a teaspoon of guar into her tea and took a sip. "Although I do take pride of my home, the Plaza is considered, as I believe you young people say, 'the hot spot.'"

Gabriella shrugged with a half smirk as she took a sip of her tea, glancing around the earthly-tone interior.

Madame's apartment was a very fancy, very luxurious penthouse, one of the very best in the Upper East Side. It was Blair Waldorf's from the _Gossip Girl_, but twice as big and twice as glamorous while maintaining very basic simplicity. Gabriella herself wasn't one for glamour; she had to admit Madame's place was the best.

However, Madame wasn't kidding about her apartment. Though the penthouse was nice, it was nothing compared to the Plaza Hotel. It was where most of the company was staying, while some, like Madame, were staying in their New York homes or apartments or staying with a friend.

The Plaza was nice, but Gabriella preferred staying with Madame. She'd be in her master guestroom with her own private bathroom instead of bunking it in a suite with three other girls. She didn't need to worry about paying for room service, which the company's expense didn't cover, since the apartment was fully stocked. And, this was something she'd never admit out loud; she thought her mentor's place was homey.

"Plaza's cool but this is definitely better. I have privacy, free food, and get to save some money." Gabriella said.

She noticed the knowing look in Madame's eyes. She obviously knew as well as Gabriella there was more. That didn't mean she was going to spill, of course.

"Is East High finally improving to your likings?" Madame asked her, changing the subject. "Should I inform your former principal, Miss Lin, LaGuardia has some competition?"

Her response was an annoyed eye roll. Competition? Please. She may be been quite the infamous troublemaker at her old school, but she'd take it any day over Corny East High. Their main focus was sports, which Gabriella could care less about. Their dance team was another cheerleading squad. The classes were pretty much useless to her, except for Creative Literature that was the only one she took seriously and was one of her favorites. It was the only thing that made it worthwhile coming to school.

"I don't get why the hell it's so important I had to continue school. I already have more than enough credits to graduate," Gabriella angrily bit off Santa's frosted head. "It's not like I'm learning anything useful there."

Madame watched as her pupil stuffed her face with another big cookie, biting it angrily, as if it could somehow ease her tension. "You know perfectly well, Gabriella, the court decided you needed to continue school," Gabriella rolled her eyes again, but it didn't offend Madame. It made her say her next comment. "Your brother also believed it was the best thing for you."

She noticed the slight flinch of Gabriella. It wasn't so much as a flinch, but more so a tension going through her body that made her still momentarily before she went back to her cookie. She murmured something under her breath; words Madame didn't understand but knew they weren't a compliment to him.

"Have you and he finally talked?"

Gabriella's head snapped back to her teacher, her calm words completely constrast to the hardness in her eyes. "There's nothing to talk about."

Madame's dark brown brow hitched up slightly in disbelief. "Nothing to talk about."

Gabriella shrugged, indifferently. Suddenly, she wished she had a cigarette with her, but Madame wouldn't tolerate it. "Nothing worth talking about."

Madame put her tea and stared right into Gabriella's cool eyes. "Odd, because to me what happened that night seems very worthy for discussion."

Gabriella's grip on the tea handle nearly crushed the thing to pieces. She forced herself to remain calm and indifferent. Eyes narrowed, she said "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Now Madame was the one who narrowed. If there was one thing she couldn't tolerate, other than tardiness and swearing, it was liars. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, young lady," Her hard voice left no room for discussion. "That night when I received a call from a policeman informing about a horrific event-"

"Can we just drop it!" Gabriella said.

Madame continued, unfazed. "One involving neglectful mother suffering from a chronic arrest, a drug-dealer and a pimp-"

"Shut up!" Gabriella shot up from her seat, her fists tightly clenched.

"And the most tragic of them all," Madame took in Gabriella's form. Her tiny body trembling, despite the fact she was trying to hold it all together. Tears blurring her eyes. "Her daughter who was trying to get her mother out of there got mixed in the crossfire. She nearly lost her life. A life that meant very little to a certain, hateful woman known as Maria-"

"_SHUT THE FUCK UP!_ " Gabriella was though with talking. She was screaming. Tears were coming up, threatening to burst out of her. She was trying so hard to hold it all in.

When she opened her eyes, overwhelmed by the tears burning in her eyes, Madame stared back at her. Silent, still, but the look in her eyes spoke volumes. It was a look of sympathetic, understanding, but there was also hints of pity in her eyes, which made it even more worse.

Gabriella bit her bottom lip, tasting the blood filling in her bad. No matter how badly her eyes stung, no matter how shaken her body was with tears, she refused to cry. Even in front of Madame. "I'm still a bit jet-lagged from the trip," She was happy, despite the turmoil going on inside her, her voice was steady. "I'm going to go lay down."

She passed by Madame without a second glance and went inside the room, shutting the door softly behind her and making sure it was lock. She could feel her will crumpling by the massive amount building up inside her. The damned tears refused to be ignored. And there was nothing she could do to about it.

And least not without help.

Gabriella grabbed her teal-blue, battered suitcase, unzipped it, and through the contents, digging into the very contents of her bag until she found her reliever: a strong bottle of bourdon she brought along with her for emergencies.

_Bottoms up_, she thought, gulping down a big swing.

**AN: AHOLA ET READERS. I KNOW IT'S LATE BUT CONSIDER THIS CHAPTER AS A HAPPY NEW YEAR AND CHRISTMAS GIFT. I know, i know. There wasn't much Troyella action, but I thought this one was neccessary to do. To see just what exactly the demons Gabriella's been pushing aside.**

**aLSO I have a request. For anyone good with photoshop and banners, is there a chance one of you could help me make one for this story. But more importantly, any of you have ideas on what should happen next? Message me. **

**Peace out. **


	16. Chapter 16

**ET Chapter 16: At the Ballet**

Troy didn't understand the concept of cowardliness.

Truth be told, he didn't understand what he did or said that was so wrong. But the realization did come soon enough.

Not the second those words that once again sounded so better in his head came out.

Not the second Gabriella walked away from him in disgust, calling him a number of things in Spanish.

Or waking up the next morning, getting very little sleep.

Or when he told Chad and Sharpay what happened, ignoring their pointed looks and shaken heads.

As far as he was concerned, he did the right thing. He had so much riding on him already and there was only so much is body could handle before it finally decided to die on him. He needed to focus all his attention on school and basketball, the only two keys he had to get far away from Albuquerque as possible.

Then free period happened. Coach Bolton announced they'd have practice. Troy has been avoiding his dad since the disastrous dinner party, having no idea what to expect.

Practice was hard and intense, the way it usually was. Coach yelled at every player who made the slightest slip, stopped the team if he wasn't satisfy, and made them go through it again just to spite them. But there was nothing any of them could do about it.

Though most of Troy's attention was now on the game, making sure he didn't do anything to get a taste of Jack's infamous wrath, he couldn't help but peek over at the bleachers. How he went there after Jack let him have it during their last private practice, how Gabriella calmly came to him and sat with him. How quiet she been, smoking a cigarette, while he wiped his face, not questioning his bruises or even hinting she wanted an explanation.

"_What the fuck are you doing, jackass!?_" Jack roared. It took Troy a second to realize his dad was talking to him, and it took him even longer to realize his mistake. Chad passed him the ball, and he was supposed to make a shot. Except he was standing in the middle of the court, staring blankly ahead while his thoughts remained on that afternoon.

_"What you saw back there was…nothing," It was the only thing he could say at the moment that was true. Compared to his dad's infamous trauma moments, this one was somewhat tamed. "My dad's just stressed out. Really stressed out. He can lose it a lot most of the time, but it's because he's under a lot pressure-"_

_"Story of my life." She repeated the exact words he said to her dance at Vicznor's. It was the first four words he heard from her the whole day, for almost two week actually. When she turned to her, there was something in her eyes. Something that was like sympathy, but deeper and entirely different._

_Almost like understanding._

He didn't know her whole story, the way she pretty much knew his. He didn't know what exactly happened in her house, didn't know what exactly it was that made her move here. But he did know she was the first person he was able to connect him. The first person who understood him perfectly. The first person to get him to open up without prying and shared some of not so pleasant details of her own home.

And he let her go. All for a man who was yelling at him, telling to get his lazy ass moving, to get making before he got _really_ angry.

Good God, he was such an idiot.

"Jesus Christ," Troy slapped the heel of his hands against his forehead, falling backward onto his bed.

Chad and Taylor, who quickly figured out the tension between him and the newcomer loner, exchanged looks over his fallen form. Sharpay, getting her comfortable in his lazy boy chair, looked up from her OK magazine to smirk at him.

"Congratulations, Troy. You finally took the first step: admitting that, yes, you do have a problem. You suffer from extreme stupidity," She smiled innocently at all three glares aimed at her. She sniffled a bit and fanned herself, as if trying to rid herself of tears. "I'm so proud." she said in a choked voice.

Troy lay back on his bed. Taylor threw a pillow at her head. Chad rolled his eyes and said "Don't expect an Oscar to be coming your way anytime soon, Shar."

Gasping, an offended Sharpay used the pillow Taylor threw at her to throw at Chad's smug face. "Asshole."

Taylor chose to ignore the commotion going on between her best friend and boyfriend. She focused her attention on Troy. "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself."

Remembrance of his dad's hatred and anger made him sink lower into his bed, wishing the thing could come alive and swallow him whole. He then pressed the pillow against his forehead as an image of Gabriella's sincere smile turning into a disgusted scowl filled him with shame. He wished he had gone after her, try to explain himself better. Or, better yet, erase the whole thing from happening in the first place.

He realized, while wallowing in his stupidity, Taylor was still talking.

"Besides, it's honestly for the best." Stunned, he removed the pillow from his face and watched his friend as she continued "Gabriella Montez is bad news."

Troy's brows wrinkled in confusion. Not at the statement itself, since there were thousands of rumors still centering on her. It was the way Taylor looked, eyes hard and mouth pinched as she had bitten into a bad lemon.

Sharpay was thinking the same thing, rolling her eyes. "Tay, you can't believe everything you hear."

Taylor scowled at her, offended somewhat. "Looks who's talking!"

Sharpay immediately took offense, sitting up straight and narrowing her eyes. "I make sure to have actual facts, Miss Smarty Pants."

Ignoring her, Taylor turned back to Troy. "She's different. What I heard is true."

"Like what?" Troy asked a bit surprised. Taylor hated rumors and gossip more than he did. She was more likely to streak through East High than believe a single word of it.

"That she's a teen mom. I can tell for you for a fact its true," She met all three of their shocked eyes with a steady one of her own. "Last week, I was at Starbucks, where she works. I was waiting for my sister to meet me. Then this guy walked in. But what really tipped me off was the baby he was holding. Hispanic, really adorable with dark hair. The guy walked right up to Gabriella, and handed him to her. The kid's arms were already around her neck before she could settle him in his arms. The way the baby clung to her was the exact same way a baby clung to their mother."

"What he look like? The guy who dropped the baby off?" Troy tried to keep his voice steady, like it was any other question. Issue was his mind wouldn't stop thinking about the two guys he had seen her with. The biker who dropped her off at school that got a kiss and hug from her. The coworker she danced with and kissed in front of everyone.

At first he thought they were the same person. Now he wasn't so sure. Either one could be the baby's father. It could be the biker while the other guy was her boyfriend. Or it could be the co-worker's kid, and the two were still on "friendly" terms while the biker was along for the ride. Or neither one of them was the father, and Gabriella was screwing with both of them.

_And to think how close you were being her third screw toy_, the obedient side whispered like an evil devil.

_Shut up!_ Despite his wishes, he couldn't stop thinking about it. In his head he could see it so clearly. Gabriella and a faceless guy barging into a room, eagerly ripping off each other clothes while their lips were practically infused to each other. His mind then went one step further. A fully naked Gabriella lying back in bed, moaning as she received kisses all over her body, calling out the guy's name as he entered her-

Taylor shrugged and Troy had to snap himself out of it so he could hear her words. "Tall, about five or six inches taller than you. Broad-shouldered, well fit. And had dragon tattoos entwined on both arms. But I couldn't see his face. He had a hood on, and kept his back to me till he left, using the back way. Miss Snooty bounced the kid in her arms, blowing him a kiss behind his back, saying she'll see him later."

Deep within him, Troy felt his body becoming sick by those words. He kept his face cool, though, because he felt Chad and Sharpay's eyes watching his reaction. And because he remained himself that he had no right to feel hurt or betrayed, which he still didn't understand, for two reasons. Firstly because he was the one who ended things, whatever they were, between them. Secondly, most importantly, he had no claim on her.

Or so he told himself.

"Tay." Sharpay said. "What's the hate?"

Taylor frowned, and Chad immediately jumped in right before she could say anything. "She is right, Tay," He almost flinched by the dark glare she gave him, but to his credit he remained firm and continued to talk. "Ever since she got here, you seem to have a thing against her. Like she's not to be trusted."

Even Troy couldn't disagree with their claims. He remembered that first day in the cafeteria the girls were watching their new wildcat and feeling bad for her. Well, Kelsi felt bad for her, Sharpay thought she was a badass, and Tay thought she was a bitch.

"_She seems stuck-up to me." she had said. _

"I ain't hating." Taylor said "I'm just saying I know them when I see them."

"And what do you mean by 'them'" Troy hadn't realized his words that were meant to be a thought were actually said out loud.

"Smart mouths, troublemakers, cocky bad-asses who go around thinking they're all that. She's no different. She thinks she so pretty, cool, and smart. I have a cousin in New York who went to school with her, and according to him she has quite a reputation. She was a trouble-marker that broke every rule in the book and then some. A pure heart-breaker every boy wanted, and who left a trail of broken hearts behind. And…"

Taking note of the odd look in her eyes as her voice trailed off, Troy and the others looked at one another. Troy asked "And…what?"

Taylor took in a deep breath she let out slowly. She sat on the bed, rubbed her hands together, and looked to be deep in thought. "My uncle works in the New York police force. When I mentioned Gabriella's name, he told me about an event that took place three months ago, in September."

Something in Taylor's body language revealed that it wasn't just a bad accident. It was a _bad,_ bad kind of accident.

A frighteningly terror grew in Troy's gut at the thought of something happening to Gabriella, the possibilities running through his head. "What happened in September?"

"I don't know the exact details. My uncle is very strict and cautious about getting away information, even if he's sharing it with family. But he gave me enough details to paint a picture or two in my head," Taylor took in another deep breath. "On September 8, a neighbor called in the police to report something. A very, very horrible confrontation gone wrong. Gunshots were fired, there was fighting, and she could hear a woman screaming."

Sharpay and Chad looked at each other, stunned. The feeling in Troy's gut worsened, the knots tightening so.

"Persons involved were a street drug dealer and his thugs, an infamous pimp with his own backup, a woman suffering badly from chronic arrest, and another woman, a younger one, who was…._assaulted_."

Sharpay's gasp was barely heard over the thunderous roaring of the blood rushing to Troy's head.

His mind hadn't been able to forget about the new Gabriella revelation Taylor uncovered for them. In some ways, very little ways, it explained why Gabriella was so guarded around people. Yet in others, it added even more questions he had about her that had yet to be answered. What exactly happened that night? How did Gabriella get involved with scum like those?

He thought long and hard about that long after his friends left. A week later, the day they were scheduled to fly into New York, his mother returned in a swirl of poised elegance, Dior perfume, and thousands of shopping bags being carried in by the workers.

"I'm back!" she called out, dressed in her signature Dior, form-fitting pantsuits, classic black stilettos, and Chanel sunglasses that masked her face.

"Hi mom." Troy slowly made his way over to her, taking his time getting down the stairs. Lucille beamed at him and rewarded him with a tight pinch to his cheek. She still kept her distance, keeping him at arm length, and Troy made no move to come closer to her. Lucille hated anything that smudged her makeup.

When Jack entered the room, his clothes rumpled and eyes glassy and practically bright red, indicating that he was beyond hangover, his mom hardly batted an eye. She barely ever did. She was too dazzled by the brilliance of her husband's smile.

"So I trust things were okay while I was gone." Lucille more so stated than questioned.

_Define okay_, Troy thought. Absentmindedly, Jack wrapped his arms around his wife's slender waist.

"Everything was fine. Just as it was when you always leave." Jack had said before Troy could get a word to come out. He brushed her hair over to the left side and nuzzled against her skin, making her giggle. "Right Troy." He pulled away a bit to give him a glare, warning present in his malicious eyes.

Troy almost considered telling his mom what really happened. How Jack's drinking increased immensely after Thanksgiving. How easily his temper went off nowadays. How he nearly beaten him to death all because he was rehearsing with his partner for their project.

The words were right at the tip of his tongue. He was so close, mouth open and words ready. Until he saw the way his mother's attention shifted from him to her husband. She giggled as Jack peppered her neck with soft kisses, leaning into his embrace. She was so close to his face, she had to have smelt the liquor. Troy, himself, could smell it, two feet away. But if Lucille noticed-or smelt it-she didn't say a peek about it. She pressed her body closer against him, allowing her neck to be peppered with his kisses, laughing at the words he whispered in her ear. Most likely dirty things.

Defeated, Troy shut his mouth. It didn't really matter what he said. His mom would either pretend not to hear or try to move onto a different topic. The evidence of that theory was playing out right in front of him, Jack's heavily alcoholic breath blowing into her face and his mom just laughing off.

"Yea. Just fine. Exactly the way things are when you leave." he said, his voice flat and monotone. Neither parent turned, either completely oblivious or didn't care at all since they were in the privacy of their large, dead house. Where no one would notice the cracks hidden underneath the perfect family image his parents have been projecting to everyone.

* * *

><p>Troy honestly didn't have a clue what was to be expected at the theater house.<p>

His mom had taken him to plenty of plays and shows whenever someone in her social circle had an extra ticket. He never gave much thought to them because his mind was always far away, lost in the train of thought.

However, the Nativity Story was different. He couldn't put his finger on it, but knew there was something about it that seemed more than the others.

And he found out he was right. From the moment the curtains went up, he didn't lose himself in a daze of his thoughts. He didn't doze off. He kept wide-awake, watching every second of the show, and loving every second it. It was different from the other shows he seen before. Everything seemed more in both a sublet but speculator. The music, the costumes, the musical numbers and the dancers.

In some ways, the Cultural Blend was a like a crossover between a dance troupe and a version of Cirque de Soleil. The dancers performed incredible routines other than ballet that had the audience standing and applauding, but there was also incredible acrobatics that was breathtaking. The special effects were unbelievable.

Lucille seemed to be enchanted by it. As enchanted as a person can be while checking their Blackberries every ten seconds. She was at least awake. Jack, on the other hand, checked out within ten seconds into the show, the two dozen bourbon shots he had taken on the plane finally taking effect on him.

But this was one time Troy wasn't paying much attention to his parents, finding himself in the fantastic blend of dance and music Cultural Blend was putting on for the audience.

And he was only watching. He watched the dancers twisting and turning in their costumes, performing complex moves that would have him twisted into a pretzel. His mind thought back to Gabriella, and how much she loved dancing. He wondered if, when she was onstage dancing, she lost herself.

Onstage, three lean dancers dressed in fine robes and shining crown, the three wise men, took a bow after their performance. Two of them wandered over to the left side of the stage, talking in murmurs. The third one, the tallest with sandy blonde hair, looked up at the sky, as if he was searching for an answer. Suddenly his eyes widened, and a bright smile spread across his face.

"The star!" he cried, excited.

Instantly the other two kinds were by his side, looking up. Within two seconds, smiles were plastered onto their faces. "The star!" they cried in unison.

A bright white light exploded in the room, the color so bright it was blinding. Slowly, bit by bit, it settled down to a brightness that was tolerable for eyesight. By the time, Troy was able to open his eyes, the three kings were gone, a bright white beam flooded the stage, and through it, Troy could see someone lying on the floor. Legs criss-crossed, head duck down, arms out in front of her.

Slowly, she raised her movements deliberate as if she was moving for the fast time in her life. First, she stood on her feet, standing on the tip of her toes before relaxing her feet. Her arms stretched out, moving along in sync with the flow of her head, revealing her very pretty and very familiar face.

Troy's heart did a double beat and paused for a brief moment.

The girl opened her big, dark mocha eyes that were sly despite the slow, soft smile spreading across her face.

_Holy crap!_ Troy thought. It was Gabriella. Lone Wolf, hot'n'cold, unattainable but completely irresistible Gabriella. The one who left him alone at Burger King, making him feel like a complete ass for what he said. The one who had a hold on him, a powerful hold on him that he couldn't fight. The one he wanted more than anything to kiss.

_Looks like the show just go a whole lot bette_r, his evil said whispered tauntingly. Troy paid little attention to it, though, focusing on snapping endless pictures that captured every second of the incredible performance he was seeing.

She looked absolutely radiant, like a star. Her small, curvy body was dressed in a silk dress in the purest shade of white with thin straps and a tulle skirt, the bodice featuring silver sparkles, the skirt having drops of silver at the hem. Her hair was set in a high ponytail, with streaks of angelic white and pink streamers attached to the barrette pinned to her hair.

Watching her dance onstage was quite a sight. He had seen her dance when she was showing him more some moves for their project, and watched her on his DVD with Sharpay. But onstage, in personal, was different. Clearer almost, because you could see up close the passion she had for dancing that radiated in every leap, every spin, and twirl she did on stage. He could easily see why she was known as a great dancer at LaGuardia. The discipline and control of ballet were still interpreted, but along side it was her own personal blend of raw energy and fierceness that went in sync with it with the controlled discipline. It made the performance more mesmerizing, more spellbinding.

And he wasn't the one who was riveted by her performance. The audience couldn't get enough of the dance. Of her. The applause was thunderous as hands clapped eagerly. Voices practically shouted out their cheers. Flashes of cameras went off like rapid fire.

After one last leap that ended with a graceful twirl, she smiled big for the audition. She rushed toward the edge of the stage, as if she was about to dive into the crowd, simply expecting them to catch her. Troy's breath was caught in his throat. She was gonna fall, she was gonna fall, she was gonna-

She was suddenly up. Taking a big leap and rising. Rising and rising until she was high, flying around their heads. She was glowing bright white as a star in the suddenly darkened theater, where she literally shone like a glorious diamond in the sky. She beamed at the audience's astonished reaction and continued her dance, which involved her mostly flying around and performing amazing acrobatic-like tricks.

The audience went wild, applauding and cheering and recording. An uncontrollable, big smile, once his heart went back to beating at a normal pace, spread across Troy's face as he watched her. She was radiant. She looked so lovely and alive in her element that it was hard to believe she was actually real.

Gabriella flew over the audience as if she were Peter Pan, dropping around glitter that was her stardust that excited the children. For her finale, she flew to the center of the room, smiled down at them, and spun. Spun around and around so fast she became a blue of blinding white light that released an explosion of silver glitter that showered them.

Flashing one last smile, she flew "North', an upper balcony where she disappeared into, leaving behind an uprooting, and thundering applause in her wake.

* * *

><p>His mom wanted to go to the Christmas Extravaganza Cultural Blend was throwing for their generous donators and friends. Claimed it was because she wished to have a word with the geniuses behind the production she named perfection. In reality, she was trying to be their new makeup sponsor for their summer trip. She recently added a new costume makeup to her collection, and thought they would be the best source of advertisement.<p>

Jack, unsurprisingly, declined. Troy, to their great surprise as well as his own, decided to go along with her. He said he wanted to make sure his mom had an escort with her. It was New York City after all. It wasn't exactly known for being the safest place to be in, especially after dark. When actually it was all for a certain beautiful Hispanic girl he needed to see again.

He needed to apologize to Gabriella. To explain things to her again. To make everything right-

"Straighten up, Troy." His mom whispered. He realized he was slouching, and quickly fixed that, adding in a pleasant smile. Just in time, too, as the cameras started going off.

Close to fifty or so photographers were plastered around the doors to the ballroom at the Plaza Hotel, taking in over dozens of shot of every guest that went in. The second they spotted the fabulous Lucille Bolton and her darling son entering, they took close to hundreds.

Everything in the ballroom was grand from the decorations, featuring delicate snowflakes gently falling from the ceiling, to the food (with two huge chocolate fountains the kids couldn't stop trying out) to the music, featuring an actual orchestra playing familiar Christmas tunes on their instruments.

"Stuffed crab for the sir and lady." An elderly employee dressed in the red and black uniform presented the appetizer.

"No thank you." Troy politely declined. He never cared too much about shellfish.

Lucille also declined, for the sake of her expensive Prada dress and figure, but did accept another glass of champagne.

Troy's eyes scanned over the large crowd for Gabriella. He kept his eyes out for black hair likely to be down and a small figure. So far his search was turning up empty.

Maybe she didn't come. As far as he knew, though it was a big event, it wasn't written in stone that every member of Cultural Blend had to attend the party. Looking around the crowd, he knew Gabriella wasn't the fancy party girl type. She was more of a club-party-girl, and she was most likely at those retro clubs somehow in Manhattan. Drinking herself into memory loss, licking body shots off guys, and allowing them to do the same to her.

The thought of a guy using his tongue on Gabriella didn't set well in his stomach. In fact, Troy was nearly a second away from showing everyone what he had for breakfast. He had to get himself together. Lucille may not be nearly as impossible as his dad, but she wouldn't hesitate to commit murder one if he did anything to jeopardized the Bolton perfect façade.

"There's Debbie Allen." His mother excitedly whispered, pointing over to his left. The former _Fame_ star and famous dancing figure, dressed in a gold and black pantsuit, was having a chat with Bruno looking very festive in burgundy and another woman, dark-haired and in purple, who had her back to Troy. "And Bruno."

His mother practically ran them over there, butting into their conversation she didn't notice they having. Or caring that she interrupted.

"Wonderful production!" she cried excitedly. "Just glorious."

Debbie smiled politely, showing no signs of irritation for the interruption. "Thank you. And you are…"

"Lucille Bolton," Troy's mother proudly announced, as if her name should be common knowledge. It took her a good twelve seconds to remember that her son was standing right to her. "Oh. And my son. Troy."

_Thanks for the enduring introduction, mom_, thought Troy, still wearing his pleasant smile for the people, as he shook their hands.

"As I was saying, that performance definitely was a wonder. It was like the Bible had come to life." his mom continued.

Despite her compliment sounding strange, the directors still smiled and said their thanks.

"Well, we really cannot take all the credit. The show would not be such a success if it wasn't for our crew people, the costume people, the music people, and, of course, our dance people," Bruno said, wrapping his arm around the dark-haired woman's shoulders. "Isn't that right, my little twinkle star."

He heard her voice before he saw her face. Gabriella turned around, smacked Bruno's shoulder, and said "Hot tamala, twinkle star. It's like you're begging me to smack you."

Debbie shared a laugh with him. "Not sure about the tamala part, but the star one seems just right. You definitely were a star tonight, Ella." She placed a gentle hand on Gabriella's shoulder and smiled at her, pleased. "I never heard an audience clap so loudly before in my life."

It took Lucille a full ten seconds to put the pieces. Recognition soon shined in her eyes as she eyed Gabriella, along with interest. "The Northern Star! I thought I recognized you. You, my dear, as Rihanna once sang, 'shine bright like a diamond.'"

Debbie looked at Lucille a bit oddly. Bruno held onto a chuckle as he took a sip of his wine. Gabriella kept herself perfectly composed with a small, half smile on her lips. A small smile that was more of a smirk with its' taunting bite.

"That's very kind of you to say." she said.

"You were positively radiant. Your dancing brought me back to my days as East High head cheerleader and dance captain." Lucille brightly smiled, as her eyes went away, thinking back to the successful days of her youth.

_Oh brother_. Troy tried hard not to roll his eyes as his mom started talking about her success as a teenager. How she was the popular captain of both teams. How she managed to turn a team of weak, pig-thigh sissies into reigning champions. _Five time_ reigning champions, thank you very much.

Once Lucille was finally done talking about herself, a good ten minutes later, she studied Gabriella a bit closer. She took in the girl's deep black hair, her very appealing exotic face, and her beautiful olive skin she knew was impossible to achieve with tanning alone. A smile quickly worked its way across her smile. "You are a very attractive young lady, Miss Montez. Nice hair, good physique, and your skin is practically flawless."

Gabriella thanked her again. Lucille continued on, saying "Spanish, right?"

Dear God! If Troy wasn't in a public place at the moment, he's smack himself hard in the head. So hard, he would fall into a coma. Instead he settled for cursing up a storm inside his head.

Both Debbie and Bruno looked bewildered. And Gabriella…Troy was scared to see her reaction.

The girl, to his amazement, still stood tall. Only now her smile was full and sharpened like a razor. "_Hispanic_ mostly." She corrected.

Lucille waved a dismissive hand, which brought on displeased frowns from troupe directors. "Potato, potat-o. Still part of the _Living La Vida Loco_ tree. Am I right?" She laughed at her own joke, which didn't set well for rest of her company.

"Oh, believe me, Mrs. Bolton. I'm definitely looking at something _loco_ alright. Now if you would excuse me?"

Gabriella walked over the left side of the buffet, putting a lot of distance between her and Lucille Bolton. She pulled out her phone when she heard the alert and read the text message that alerted it. Within a second of reading it, a smile made its way across her face.

And it only took a second, along with the presence of a certain pup, to dissolve it like acid. "Enjoying the rear view, Bolton?"

Troy took a quick step back, unsure whether a foot or a hand would take a shot at him. He may not have had much experience with girls, but knew enough from others' experiences. Including the fact that they didn't take getting offended well, and have the tendency to lash out at the offender.

Gabriella proved she was a different matter to that theory. She didn't slap, punch, or kick him. She simply stared at him, left brow slightly arched, face un-amused, and cool eyes only a degree away from below zero.

Her cool actions caught Troy off balance. In his mind he had the whole scene played out. He'd tap her shoulder gently, try to block (if he can) whatever painful reaction she'll have from seeing his face, and then apologize.

Since she wasn't doing the painful reaction part, he was left standing and staring at her. And as improper as it was to be staring, he couldn't really help it. It was hard to look away from her.

She was a vision in a purple, a very intoxicating, tempting vision. The short dress was five inches above her knees, but still slyly appropriate, showing off a very generous amount of leg. The purple shade was so deep, it was nearly black. The material soft velvet, sporting satin-silk lavender thin straps and a matching belt tied around her waist. The lavender strappy heels she had on gave her some height and made her legs look longer.

It was simple yet hot. Classy yet sexy.

_And she's wearing her hair down_, he thought, taking note of the loose raven waves. It made her look even more irresistible. It took all of his will power not to drool.

"Bolton!" Gabriella snapped her fingers a few times to get his attention. "If you're done ogling." Troy cleared his throat as he looked away sheepishly, rubbing his neck. Ignoring his embarrassment, Gabriella continued "I'll like to get this conversation over and done before the year 3013. So whatever you want to say spit it out."

Now or never, Bolton. Troy took in a deep breath and said in a rush "I'm so sorry for what I said. I was a idiot. A big idiot. The biggest idiot in the world. Times ten."

Sweet Jesus, that last one sounded so much better in his head than out loud. And given the look, or arched brow in Gabriella's case, it was one that deserved the top spot for the most idiotic things ever said.

"Point is," he said quickly. "I'm really, really, really sorry and hope you can forgive me."

Gabriella stared at him. And stared and stared, up to the point Troy was starting to feel uncomfortable. She miraculously broke gaze a few seconds later, grabbing a chocolate covered strawberry. He couldn't help noticing how very sensual the motion of her lips was. Very seductive as they sucked the chocolate before taking nibbling of the strawberry. Down below, he felt an ache that was a combination of need and pain rolled up into one.

Dear sweet Jesus, this was not the time for that. Call him crazy, but he had a strong feeling his mom wouldn't be too happy if he was sporting a hard-on at a very important suit-and-tie event. Especially since they were people with camera around to capture the awkward moment.

Finishing off her snack, Gabriella's tongue came out from its cave and licked the corners of her mouth, as if it there was some chocolate left over. The famous tongue said to be quite a wonder in East High's men's locker-room. A wonder that was like a touch of heaven and could turn a man's system upside down. All with one flick.

The ache in his pants grew. Troy balled his fists tightly, using the pain as a distraction from his mind that decided to be dirty.

"So, how do you plan to live your life?" Gabriella said.

Troy was ready to hear her say that she forgave him, and that the two can move on. Then he heard her words and became confused. Unless society created a new way of doing and accepting apologizes and he didn't get the memo, those didn't sound like words of forgiveness. "I'm sorry. What?"

"How do you plan to live your life?' she repeated again.

Live his life? How the hell did this conversation went from him asking her for forgiveness to her wondering about his life choices? The feeling in his gut warned him to use caution with his words. "Um…well…I plan to live a good life. Get good grades, graduate East High, and get a full ride to college."

Her eyes narrowed, which was not a good sign. "What about your pictures? Do you plan to go into photography?"

What in the name of God? He stared at Gabriella, bewildered, like she lost her head. Maybe she had. Majoring in photography? He wasn't going to lie. It was a dream of his to get into photography, but it was a dream he knew would never happen. "UCLA doesn't offer that as a major. Besides, I already have to worry about basketball. I need to give a hundred and ten percent if I'm going to make pro."

Her eyes were narrowed and ice-cold. A scowl of disgust darkened her face as she eyed him. "So in other words you don't plan on letting Cock-sucker just control your high school life, you're letting him dominate your college life and the great beyond."

"Yes. I mean no. I mean..." How in the _friggering_ name of hell did this conversation completely go off the track he laid out for it? "I-this is something I need to do. It's a family tradition and you can't go against-"

"Bullshit!" she exclaimed, very loudly. Several people turned their heads over to them. None that Gabriella cared. She was already leaving. And just like last time, Troy wasn't going to let her go without saying a few words of his own.

Quickly catching up to her, he grabbed her arm, a bit more roughly than he would have liked. And spun her around, so she would meet the pissed-off expression on his face. "Can you please just forget about my future for a second and accept my damn apology so we can move on?"

She scoffed, taking her arm back. "Apology, my ass. You didn't mean one damn thing," She cut him off before he could reply. "You're not sorry about what you said, Bolton. You're only sorry about the way you said it, which pissed me off. But you still meant it, didn't you."

Troy hesitated, unsure what to say. "Didn't you?!" she repeated, louder.

She already knew the answer by looking into his eyes. So there was it. He was going to be a little coward. He was going to do whatever Cock-sucker said. Including excluding her from his company because she was the "bad influence." A flaw to Bolton's master plan of living his charmed little life.

An ache throbbed painfully inside her as she thought about her exclusion, being removed because she wasn't some Susie cookie-cutter material. She hated the way it made a bruise inside her. Hated the way it made her feel. Most of all, she hated herself for feeling this way. Before she never gave a damn of how others saw her. They had their own opinions about how horrible she was. Great. They could stick up their asses. She never cared about that, and she'll be damned if she started letting some cowardly, shitty little pup to start changing that.

Feeling anger rushing to her head, Gabriella grabbed stuffed crabs off a tray and stuffed them down pup's throat, nearly choking him to death. "_Fuck you!_"

As he was trying to cough out and keep down the shellfish that was causing very big upsets in his stomach, he had the great honor of watching Gabriella walk away from him and the party.

_Well_, his obedient side said, picking the worst of times to come._ That went well._

"Shut the fuck up." Troy murmured threateningly to it, not in the mood for sarcasm.

How the hell did this go wrong? He planned how he was going to make it up to Gabriella for what he said, right down to the last detail. Yet somehow something he planned for days manage to completely blow up in his face in only a few minutes.

It could only mean one thing.

He was the biggest idiot of all time.

**Hi. I want to say I'm so sorry about taking forever to update. I had to do community service, finales, and recently graduated. Since I'm now officially done with high school and summer began, I should be able to update more. Hopefully. Thanks for being patient, and reading and reviewing. U guys rock **


	17. Chapter 17

**ET Chapter 17: Ghosts everywhere**

_At first she thought it was her imagination playing a trick on her and making her see things. Or a person simply waiting for a ride just like she was. _

_It was dark in the late night, and cold. Though the snow fall was light, the wind blew harshly, whipping her black tresses into her face, making it impossible for her to see clearly. _

_Gabriella's squinted eyes sought the lone figure standing across from her. A woman, she could tell by her sensible curves, with her arms crossed against her chest. The distance between them was only a street, but somehow it seemed almost like twelve feet. Gabriella couldn't be sure, but it was as if the woman was watching her. _

_Curious, she took a step forward. Almost instantaneously the woman moved from her stilled position to take a step forward. _

_Curiosity taking over, she took a step, which produced into another, and another. Until she found herself being drawn in, taking small baby steps toward the stranger. The more steps she took, the more the stranger took, at the exact same time. Almost as if they were mirroring each other's movements. _

_With every step that she took, Gabriella noticed the few things being shed into the light. _

_The shiny black stilettos she wore strapped around her ankles. _

_The leopard fur jacket that was up to her thigh. _

_Her jet black hair flowing wildly in the strong winds. _

_Wheels started turning in Gabriella's head as she studied the woman. There was something about her. Something vague. The outfit, the seductive sway of her hips, the way she carried herself. There was something odd about this lady of the night. _

_Something familiar. _

_With one last step, the distance between them was an inch. Standing apart from each other. It took everything Gabriella not to gasp, though mixed shock and shame were spiraling uncontrollably inside her. _

_The image was so uncanny to hers, almost as if it were her reflection. She had almost believed that was the case. If not for the subtle differences she was picking up as she examined the woman. _

_The unmistakable gray entwining with the raven black of her hair. Her weak, almost skeleton-like frame that looked even smaller in her getup. The hallowed bitterness that aged her face, the harsh lines removing any trace of youth. The self-inflicted, punctured marks on her arms that were seen through the ripped sleeves of her worn- mouth-eaten jacket. _

"_People call Temptress," Maria smiled, a seductive smile on her face that would be more charming if not for the horrible teeth. The few survivors were blackened and looked rotten to the core. She unfastened her jacket, revealing the very skimpy lingerie she had underneath. "And I can make your most wicked temptations come true. For a hundred bucks." _

Gabriella sucked in a sharp breath as she freed herself from the nightmare. She felt a coldness seeping in her veins, chilling her to the bone. She sought shelter in the blanket she brought along with her, burying herself deep within its contents.

_It was a only dream_, she told herself. _A stupid, fucking dream that meant shit._

Except she knew it wasn't.

She wasn't naïve to believe that, while coming back to New York, bad things wouldn't restart again. It was bound to happen. You don't just waltz into the big, bad wolf's den and _not_ make it to the other things without getting mauled by the creatures in the darkness. She supposed she was, and this was a confession she was ashamed to make, naïve to think they wouldn't hit her so hard.

During the day the demons were kept at bay with hours and hours of grueling but energizing rehearsals. At nights, dancing for a packed audience created a shield that ward off the unwanted darkness. And in her free time, she made sure she was busy. In the mornings to afternoons, traveling all over the city. Ice-skating, stopping at the public library, shopping. Then at nighttime drinking and dancing the night away, along with a few hookups once in awhile.

However, there were moments when she was alone. With nothing to do, nowhere to go. That would be when the demons, taunting and cruel, came upon her. Especially as she slept, making it nearly impossible to do as she tossed and turned, trying to wake up from the nightmares. Nightmares more so painful, unnecessary to think about thoughts. Thoughts of Javier, Carlos the perverted asshole, Scorpion the Devil's incarnation, and Maria.

Or, as customers knew her as, Temptress. Whose wicked, seductive ways were the devil's definition of sinful pleasures. For a hundred bucks a go.

Prostitute, street-walker, hooker. Or as Gabriella referred to her, crack whore. It might be mean to say, but it was the truth. From the age of sixteen Maria has been trading in her body for two things: money to refill her liquor cabinet and drugs and simply for the drugs, which was mostly the case.

Gabriella often remembered walking home from school or dance class and seeing her mother working. Parading her assets at the street corner. Sending a smirk at every male passing by. Once a customer was reeled in, they'd make conversation for about ten seconds. Then she'd get into the car, and they'd ride off. Him taking her to parts unknown, and Temptress returning the favor once they'd reached their destination.

Sometimes she'd bring the customer up to their apartment when extra cash or cocaine was thrown in. When that happened, Javi would gather her up in his arms and run to their room, locking the door. He played dolls with her quietly, read to her, did anything he could to take her distracted from the moans and yelling going on outside. He did it to preserve her innocence for as long and as best as he could. He also did it because more and more of those creeps were showing a disturbing interest in Temptress' pretty little daughter.

Gabriella rolled onto the other side of the Madame's soft lazy-boy couch, facing the wide screen TV. Onscreen the NCIS marathon continued on the USA Network. She stared at the screen blankly, seeing it without really watching it. Her mind was just too damn full of thoughts to pay attention to the latest case Gibbs' team was dealing with.

Sometimes as she walked back from the clubs after a long night of partying, she would look across the street and see something that made her stop in her tracks. A woman, lean and dark-haired, dressed provocatively, walking the streets and chain-smoking. It was the only when she turned around and proved to be someone else could she finally breathe.

Still her mind brought up the possibility of crossing paths with Maria. She could have been released early. Could have easily cut a deal. And be right back here, waiting.

_God dammit! _Gabriella turned her back to the TV, as if it could shield her from her horrible mind.

And as if she didn't already have enough thoughts keeping her up, there was someone else other than the puta constantly circling around her mind. A scrawny, weak, pebble-sized weenies for balls pup.

Pup who was such a mindless idiot it stunned her he survived for so long in the world.

Pup who'd rather live in his own hell then to finally break free.

Pup who can be so infuriating she wanted to punch him.

Pup, who was to her great dismay, good-looking. Too much for his own good.

Pup who had incredible blue blue eyes that made things happen to her. Made her feel things, weird and warm tingly things.

Feelings. The thought sent an uncomfortable shiver to run through her body, feeling so odd. Feelings she never experienced before. Feelings she sure as hell didn't want to think about.

Growling in frustration, Gabriella kicked off the blanket and stood up from the bed. She stretched out her arms, then her legs, and popped her neck, unknotting stiff muscles.

As much as she loved NCIS, staying here and thinking unwanted thoughts wasn't going to fly with her. It was New Year's weekend. And she planned on having fun.

Half an hour later, Gabriella was showered and dressed in her favorite club outfit. Black leather ¾ sleeved top attached to a bleached denim mini skirt that barely covered her thighs. Paired with the ensemble was a pair of fierce black suede boots that went over the knee.

She smirked at her reflection. She looked hot. And she was determined to have fun.

* * *

><p>The Prey was her favorite club in all of downtown Manhattan. The bouncers barely glanced at ID, the bartenders made strong drinks, and the DJs played the best music, including great throwbacks and remixes. And with it being New Year's, girls got into for free and their first five drinks were free.<p>

Gabriella glided her way through the long line outside the club, ignoring the complaints coming from protesters. She quickly flashed her fantastically-legit fake ID she got when she was fifteen, and made her way inside.

The party mood was going at full swing. Pitbull blasted from the speakers, the majority of people busted their wild moves on the wide dance floor, some girls took their dance to the poles, and the bar was crowded with thirsty customers.

She made her way over to the bar, shoving people out of the way. She grabbed a stool caught the eye of a blonde bartender who pulled away from his conversation with a sorority-looking chick in strapless dress. He smiled at her and asked her choice of poison.

"Tequila."

Four shots of tequila with two vodka sodas surging through her system, the hot music making her body a slave to its sweet sound, Gabriella felt like she was on the cloud nine.

She felt so free. Light and weightless. As if nothing could touch her.

Then again that was the beauty of alcohol.

Flipping her hair over her shoulder, Gabriella's eyes went back to the bar, where a pair of eyes have been watching her for some time. A pair of hazel eyes that belonged to a guy sitting at the bar, taking sips of his beer.

She studied him. Lean with some muscle and lightly-tanned, wavy light brown hair. He was good-looking in Dave Franco kind of way, and luckily for him she liked Dave Franco.

His smile broadened as he noticed her staring back at him, holding up his beer to her as a greeting. Gabriella's smile turned sly as she considered him. It had been awhile since she had been laid. He seemed to have potential.

_Let's see if he can earn it_, she thought. Soon Justin Timberlake's _Let The Groove Get In_ ended, and Shakira's _Hips Don't Lie_ filled the club.

Keeping her eyes locked on his, Gabriella swayed her hips seductively to the beat as she moved further into the dance floor. As he jumped off the stool and quickly followed her, she slipped into the role of a hip-swaying, belly-dancing seductress. With every delicious sway, her booty popped, her hands caressed her body, and his eyes soaked up every moment of it.

As he took another step forward, she pushed her body to his, grinding her ass ever so slowly against his crotch, listening to his long sounds of tortuous groans.

Unable to resist, he gripped her hips and guided them. He groaned again as she moved her ass against him, arousing a brutally sweet burn. "Are you a seductress or a tease?"

Gabriella smirked, letting her hips and ass do all the talking for her. As she came back up from another grind, she turned around, facing him. Her hands slide down from his shoulders, to his chest, deliberately brushing against his hard nipples. He groaned for the fourth time, titling his head back and closing his eyes.

The game was going better than she expected. She leaned close to his ear and whispered "Maybe I'm both."

She then went back to the bar. But not without gently nudging his little 'friend', a move that turned him on more. She took a seat at the stool and called for the bartender that served her before. "Vodka."

"Make that two." Mr. Hot and Bothered who was frozen on the dance floor a few moments ago, practically gasping for air, was right beside her. He sat down at the stool next to her.

Gabriella was impressed. Usually when her games were through, she was prepared to face two types of potentials. The modest who were too stunned by her boldness that all they did was watch her from afar, either continuing her fun or finding another toy. The cocky who believed her boldness was an invitation to say whatever or act however they wished. They were the ones who ended up with a punch to the face or her drink all over them.

Mr. Hot and Bothered leaned more toward the modest side. He was close to her, but not too close, leaving her to her personal space. That was a plus. He didn't try to take her drink and act all macho. That action would have been called for immediate dismissal. He didn't make a grab for her ass. A very wise move since that would have gotten him a black eye.

"I'm Scott." he smiled charmingly.

Gabriella only replied with a small, half smirk. The bartender set down two full glasses of Absolut vodka.

"So what's your name?" 'Scott' asked.

Gabriella gave him a feline smile and chugged down half her drink. It amused her that he watched her so closely, mesmerized.

He soon figured out the method of her game. She could tell by the knowing glint entering his eye. A twinge of cockiness appeared in his smile as he looked at her closer. "So if I get your name right, what's my prize?"

Gabriella leaned closer to him, a seductive smile on her lips. "You seem to be a big boy," She made a point of looking down at his little friend that was practically growing before her eyes. "I'm sure you can use your imagination."

A few hours later the pair stumbled into Scott's loft at the Lower Eastside. He pushed Gabriella against the wall, next to the door, drinking in her alluring beauty before he came back to her. Their lips attacked each other hungrily, tongues fighting a brutal battle, their hands feeling as much as their clothes would allow.

Gabriella wrapped her legs around Scott's torso, running her hands through his hair as they battled for dominance. A battle she wasn't about to lose. She pulled away from the kiss, moaning, as Scott's fingers slipped underneath her skirt and played with the elastic of her panties. Sweet Jesus, she could feel herself getting wet as he stroked against her core. She arched closer to his touch, wanting a release from the buildup starting in her.

"You like that?" he whispered in her ear, slipping a finger into her, stroking her slowly.

As much as this was nice, Gabriella wasn't quite through playing with her toy yet. She pulled away from him and pushed him against the wall. Smirking at his stunned face, she crushed their lips together in a hot, sensational kiss filled with hunger. Scott returned the kiss desperately, pressing harder against her. As they kissed, she quickly undid his belt, and then got his pants off with some help from the eager boy. Next, her fingers unbuttoned his black shirt, revealing his very nice upper body.

Left alone in his boxers, Scott trembled in anticipation as Gabriella pulled away from the kiss and got down on her knees before him. Slowly she pulled down his blue boxers and was greeted by his very eager, excited member.

"My, my, my," she smirked. "So you are a big boy."

Scott nodded and closed his eyes in satisfaction as Gabriella fingered him. He groaned hard the second her finger was replaced by her tongue that stroked him. Going up and down, causing his trembling body to shake uncontrollably as the pleasure increased. Up and down, the pressure built up more and more. Slowly and teasingly, he was getting closer and closer to his climax.

"Oh…my…_shit_!" He managed to pant out, using one hand to bring her head closer to him. The other one he used to grip tightly onto his coffee table, trying to steady himself.

Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, she switched tactics. She stopped kissing his dick to bring the velvety beauty to the tip of his member. She licked it coyly and sucked on it hard, increasing the volume of his hard groans.

"Sweet Fucking Jesus," he groaned loudly. "you're fucking killing me!"

He could tell he was going to cum. It was coming closer with each suckle of her mouth and lick of her tongue. He was going to cum. He was gonna-

"_SHIT!_" he nearly screamed out loud, nearly falling back from the vast amount of pleasure crashing in. Streams of cum sprouted from his dick, and Gabriella swallowed the whole thing up.

"You really are a big boy," With dazed, hunger-filled eyes, Scott looked down at her. "And big boys deserve big prizes."

Gabriella pushed him onto his king-size bed and stood in front of him. First she kicked off her shoes and unbuttoned her dress. The material fell down to the floor, unveiling her lavender and black lace Victoria secret bra-and-thong set.

"Sweet Jesus." Scott whispered, breathless. He looked like he wanted to ear her. Or fuck her in every way possible.

He was quickly through with just looking. He reached over and grabbed her onto her waist, pulling her into the bed. Gabriella found herself lying on her back and Scott on top of her. His urgent mouth met hers, their teeth clashing together as they fought for dominance while they rolled around in the bed.

"So fucking sexy." he whispered before his mouth went down to her neck, peppering her skin with hot kisses and breathes.

Gabriella could only moan. She helped Scott unclasp her bra, and moaned louder as he handled her breasts. He put her left breast into his mouth, licking her hardened nipple, as he fingered the other hardened nipple.

"Fuck yes!" she moaned. "Oh, yes!"

He switched to the other breast, licking the nipple he was stroking. Gabriella grabbed hold of his head and pulled him closer to her chest, arching her body toward him.

As soon as he was done with her breasts, Scott's lips traveled lower down her body until they reached her pussy. Her panties were fairly soaked and she helped him be rid of the unwanted thing. He pulled back for a moment to put the condom on, and thrust into her.

"Fuck!" Gabriella yelled as he filled her. She was so used to being in this position; she didn't feel the burn anymore. All that mattered was the great feeling he brought to her.

As soon as he began thrusting, she quickly followed his lead. She closed her eyes and moaned in pure ecstasy, feeling as though she was skyrocketing to cloud nine.

"Faster," she chanted in moans. "Harder."

Scott grabbed her hips, and Gabriella spread her legs wider so he had more access. "So…fucking…_tight_." He groaned.

Gabriella barely heard him. Sweet ecstasy filled her, drowning out any other unimportant thought or sound. She moaned louder as he leaned down, his hands and mouth playing with her breasts as he rode her onto a highway of great pleasure.

She opened her eyes. His familiar, chestnut hair plastered to his damp face. His muscles ripped glisteningly each time he pulled away from her and re-entered again. His eyes snapped opened, revealing the familiar and very incredible blue shade that locked passionately to hers.

She froze, bewildered by the blue, intense stare. He leaned so close to her, their lips only a centimeter apart, and brushed back a strand of black away from her face. It was done in almost a tender way that caused her heart to skip a beat.

"_Gabriella._" Pup whispered, kissing her cheek and his lips traveling to her neck. Each one of his kisses burnt her body, causing her to moan out loud.

She nearly called out his name, wanting more. Till her senses flooded back to her, reminding her of what happened. Her dismay soon morphed into near mortification. Her mortification changed into anger quickly arousing to rage. She didn't do weakness. And that was what feelings were to her: weakness, someone having power over to her. Well, she sure as hell wasn't about to let that happen. She refused to be dominated by anyone. Especially weak-minded, spineless but intense Pup.

_Distraction my ass_, she thought angrily as she quickly flop them over.

He was stunned by the change in position. But he could get a word out, Gabriella thrust hard into him, which had him howling from the unbelievable sensations washing over him. "_Great fucking hell!_"

Gabriella smirked as she grabbed hold of his shoulders, riding him hard with powerful thrusts. All he could do was groan and scream out curses as he gripped onto her hips, holding on for dear life as he returned her brutal thrusts as roughly as he could.

"You like?" she asked coyly.

"Oh fuck!" was all he could scream. He pushed his dick harder into her, thrusting roughly into her. Gabriella threw her head back, moaning so loudly she was practically screaming.

They thrust more and more, gripping him each other until they finally reached their climax, screaming so loudly as they cum and did so very _hard_.

Gabriella smirked to herself as she left Scott's apartment. The night had gone even better than she thought. She got her fill, and Scott clearly got something out of it.

She knew from the wide grin on his face that he was more than satisfied.

This was a good night. Despite the weird mind tricks that happened earlier, she definitely received some really great sex.

She inhaled deeply and let out it with an amused smirk on her face. She felt so free, so good, so-

"Temptress?"

And just like that, all the great weightlessness she had was deflated in an instant the second she heard that familiar name.

Gabriella turned around and was faced with a tall, lanky man with multiple piercings and tattoos covering nearly every inch of him, his hair buzz-cut and black, and his brown eyes glassy from liquor.

An old customer, she realized, though she doesn't recall seeing him around her old house before. Most likely he fucked Maria in the back seat of his car or in the alley.

"I'm sorry," Gabriella said as calmly and clearly as she could. "But you got the wrong person."

The drunken idiot shook his head. "Nah, I recognize that pretty little face and that nice body anywhere." He eyed her figure hungrily, making her feel so disgusted.

"Yeah, well. My mother is the cheap whore, not me." She turned back to walk away, but before she took another step, she found herself pulled into the guy's embrace. She fought the urge to puke at the heavy, hard liquor fuming from his nasty breath.

"Well, you know what that they say, darling. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," For a drunken asshole, he had surprisingly strong grip. No matter how many times she tried to break free, he refused to cut her loose. "How about we go back to my apartment? You can have some fun with me, then some fun with my roommate. I'll even throw in an extra fifty for a threesome. What do you say?"

What did she say? Gabriella decided to let her actions speak for her. As soon as she saw an opening, she kicked him hard in the balls, nearly sending that sucker up his spine. The guy released her and screamed out loud in pain. She silenced him with a hard punch to the face that knocked him out cold and down to the ground.

"Fuck you!" That was what she had to say to his shitty offer.

She quickened her step to Madame's penthouse, needing distance between her and the asshole. But with every step she took, the feeling of disgust and shame only increased instead of decreased.

The asshole wasn't the first to think that she was as cheap as Maria. She remembered the looks she often got from the scum in her neighborhood. The whispers, the looks. It as if every single one of them, including the fucking whore and her pimp, were waiting for the day she would lose all her pride, get on the streets and spread her legs open for anyone willing to pay for a piece of her ass.

_Fuck them all_, she thought.

Because Maria was so fucking weak and dependent, she had done the most cringe-worthy things to get by. But not Gabriella. She learned enough from living in that hell-hole that she would never make Maria's mistakes. She would never let herself become so fucking weak. Not for anything or anyone.

She would never, not in a million years, become like her mother.


	18. Chapter 18

**ET Chapter 18: A New Year, Another Bore**

New York, most people assumed, was Gabriella's home. It did make sense, if one were to think about it clearly.

She was born there, grew up there, had history and memories. Whether those memories were good or bad mattered very little.

It should be home.

But to Gabriella, it wasn't home. It was more like a house. Home was a safe haven. A place that always made you feels good to be apart of. A place where you were happy. New York was never that for her, despite the good times she managed to get out of it.

Of course if she had to chose between where she'd rather be at, in a place where the demons awaited her or in boring heap of a town where she was close to die from boredom, she would take New York any time.

Sure, her demonic memories haunted her every night, reminding her of the pain and shame she went through. Sure, she had be on high alert and look over her shoulder when she went out. Sure, she didn't have the most ideal childhood.

However, though it wasn't home for her, it was a familiarity to her. She knew what she was up against; she knew how to take care of herself. She knew the rules to the game she unwillingly had been apart of since she was born.

More importantly, it was a hundred times more exciting than boring, small town Albuquerque. New York had excitement. It had energy. It had life.

Albuquerque had a lame-ass town she had to live in, a lame-ass school she had to attend, and was filled with lame-ass people she was tempted more than once to punch that she was forced to interact with.

There were four things that made her return and remain there: Anita who somehow managed to get under her skin and got herself attached to her. Rob who proved to be a very useful partner in crime. The Underground, which had to be the hottest dance club she ever been in. Well, at least hot for Albuquerque. It was almost like a small-town version of the Prey. And, of course, precious little Paco who pretty much had the world wrapped around his little finger.

For Javier though? That was, which was pretty much the story of Gabriella's life, complicated. He was caught in between reasons why she should remain and reasons why she should leave.

Of course barging into her room early in the morning and interrupting her sweet, semi-dead sleep had him leaning more towards reasons why she should bail.

"Are you aware this is the fifth time I've came into this room and found you still in bed?" he said.

Gabriella took his words as permission to snuggle more into her warm, little bed. "How sweet of you to notice."

She knew just by his irritated tone he was not amused. "If I come in here one more time and find you still in there, I'll rip you out of that bed, drag your ass to school myself, and let the East High Wildcats see their newest in her PJs"

Oh really. Gabriella scoffed, amused, pushing away the covers and sitting up straight so her brother could have a good look at her. She had on a white tank top that left very little to the imagination and her lavender underwear since she was too lazy to throw on bottoms. She met her brother's frown with a smug smirk. "So you basically want to extend an invitation of my goodies to the school's horn dogs?"

Javier scowled, growling "Get your lazy ass up!" He muttered something under his breath, something about bringing a bucket of water, but she wasn't sure since he was already gone.

Gabriella slowly made her way out of bed, nearly falling on her face in the process, but she still got up, so she considered it progress. She let out a yawn that nearly rocked her whole body, stretching her out muscles, fixing the kinks in her neck. She walked over to her iPod that was sitting in her dock, fully charged, needing a song to get her through the morning.

Scrolling through the thousands of songs, she tried to find the right one. Nothing too serious, nothing too hard-core, nothing that carried any profanity for Paco's sake.

Bingo, she thought, finding it. _How to Be a Heartbreaker by Mariana and the Diamonds_. Just her type of song.

_Rule number one, is that you gotta have fun  
>But baby when you're done, you gotta be the first to run<br>Rule number two, just don't get attached to  
>Somebody you could lose<br>So le-le-let me tell you  
><em>

Gabriella swayed to the music, whipping her hair wildly. She carried her dance over to the bathroom, dancing as she brushed her teeth and rinsed out her mouth. She added singing to the mix, lending her vocals to the chorus, as she rubbed herself clean in the shower.

_This is how to be a heartbreaker  
>Boys they like a little danger<br>We'll get him falling for a stranger  
>A player, singing I lo-lo-love you<br>How to be a heartbreaker  
>Boys they like the look of danger<br>We'll get him falling for a stranger  
>A player, singing I lo-lo-love you<br>At least I think I do!_

Going back to her room, Gabriella dried off her body and moisturized every inch of her skin with her favorite jasmine lotion, which went wonderfully with her honeysuckle and rose-scented shampoo and conditioner.

_Rule number three, wear your heart on your cheek  
>But never on your sleeve, unless you wanna taste defeat<br>Rule number four, gotta be looking pure  
>Kiss him goodbye at the door, and leave him wanting more, more<em>

_This is how to be a heartbreaker_  
><em>Boys they like a little danger<em>  
><em>We'll get him falling for a stranger<em>  
><em>A player, singing I lo-lo-love you<em>  
><em>How to be a heartbreaker<em>  
><em>Boys they like the look of danger<em>  
><em>We'll get him falling for a stranger<em>  
><em>A player, singing I lo-lo-love you<em>  
><em>At least I think I do<em>

_Cause I lo-lo-love you_

Once she was dry and moisturized, she slipped on her black and pink strapless bra with matching panties, and then searched through her small wardrobe to find the perfect outfit. Not that she was doing it to impress those Wildcats. She just preferred to look good.

_Girls, we do, whatever it will take  
>Cause girls don't want, we don't want our hearts to break in two<br>So it's better to be fake, can't risk losing in love again, babe  
><em>

She put together the perfect outfit. A bright pink cropped t-shirt with tears slashed across and around the shirt she did herself. A black mini skirt she paired with a fierce cat-eyed belt she got from Red Balls. Completing the ensemble was a pair of black mid-length boots and fishnet leggings.

_This is how to be a heartbreaker  
>Boys they like a little danger<br>We'll get him falling for a stranger  
>A player, singing I lo-lo-love you<br>How to be a heartbreaker  
>Boys they like the look of danger<br>We'll get him falling for a stranger  
>A player, singing I lo-lo-love you<br>_

Running a brush through her hair, Gabriella went over to the mirror to check her appearance. She traded in her brush for a tube of light pink lip-gloss she dabbed on her lips. Once clothes and hair were out of the way, she moved onto accessories. She placed in her diamond stub for her nose and one for her belly button, and silver stubs in her ears. She slipped on a few black bangles on her left wrist, including her favorite spiked bracelet. For the finishing touch: her pitch-dark shades she always had on her.

Sexy was her thought as she looked at her reflection, seeing the final results. She winked at her reflection, blowing a kiss.

"You ass!" A pound fist banging at her door brought her back to the present. "In kitchen!" Another bang. "Now!"

"Don't get your panties in a twist, _que grande viejo cascarrabias._" His response was a harder bang.

Gabriella did a double check of her bag to make sure she had everything she needed. Last thing she needed was a teacher getting on her ass because she didn't have her homework or some other crap like that.

Vacation homework? Check.

Binders and books? Check.

Books for pleasure-reading? She had _Unravel Me_ and _Pushing the Limits_, so double check.

Her journal? Check

Her Marlboro Reds? She saw her current pack held seven cigarettes, so she needed an extra one just in case.

She tucked her iPod safely inside her bag's inner side pocket, along with her keys and wallet. She finally came out of her room just time to see the Happy Family up.

Anita in the kitchen, hunched over the stove, flipping pancakes with one hand and making eggs with the other. Javier, along side her, fixing coffee for three and a bottle for one. Paco in the living room, giggling as he played with his new favorite toy, the baby Mickey Mouse she got him for Christmas.

Paco smiled brightly once he spotted his aunt, reaching out for her. Gabriella happily obliged by picking him up and settling him onto her hip, jingling his new toy in his face, causing the young toddler to laugh.

"He loves that toy," Gabriella looked over at Anita. "Since Christmas morning that toy has been by his side. Refuses to leave it alone for even a second."

Gabriella knew that feeling. She was the same way with every Disney toy her brother managed to get her for her birthday and Christmas. How she brought them with her wherever she went. How she refused to let them leave her sight. How she often brought them to bed with her, especially her Esmeralda.

Apparently Javier was remembering the same thing. He came into the conversation, adding "Reminds me of Ella. I still remember the first time she got a Disney doll. Nothing could come between the two."

And just like that, the almost good morning vibe turned immediately south, unleashing a very sudden and very sharp pain that twisted in Gabriella's gut. "_Don't_ call me that!"

Everyone looked at Gabriella, bewildered by the harsh sharpness of her voice. Even Paco's laughter came to a halt.

Well that certainly was the last thing she wanted. She was embarrassed, not to mention ashamed, by the momentary weakness she just displayed. But she refused to comment on it, or have them question her, so she took in a deep breath and did what she did best: pretend there was nothing amiss. She tickled her nephew, soon starting up his laughter again, and strapped him into his high chair, handing him his bottle. She wrapped her breakfast up to go and helped herself to some coffee, all whilst ignoring the couple's gaze watching her.

"Gabriella-" Javier started. Too bad she wasn't going to let him finish. She decided to change the topic, and luckily knew the girl who she'd use.

Looking over at Anita, she noticed her skin was already glowing from the pregnancy glow. Over Christmas break, Anita sent a message that made her day.

**3 and half months along. Hoping for a girl ;) **

_That makes two of us_, Gabriella thought then as she did now, noticing the baby bump already showing through her nightgown.

"So how's your little bun in the oven doing?" she asked.

A bright smile spread across Anita's face, wiping away the concerned frown lines. "Perfectly well," she said, rubbing her stomach affectionately. "Just like my last one was." She dropped a kiss on her son's forehead, causing the tot to laugh. "I swear I feel so good, I could be pregnant forever."

"Really?" Javier commented. "That's funny because I seem to recall the last time you were pregnant, you did nothing but complain. About the morning sickness, the afternoon sickness, the evening sickness-"

"That _mierda _hits you every damn second of the day!" Anita argued. Javier continued on, unfazed.

"Your sore back was killing you; your sore feet were killing you. Your emotions were so over the place, you were convinced you were losing your mind. Said you'd stick me six feet under if I ever put you through that again."

Anita looked like she wanted to punch him, but decided to do something else. Her smile turned coy as she walked over to Javi, wrapping her arms around his beck. "While that may be true, there are a few benefits you forgot to mention."

"Such as…"

Paco, she pointed out, was number one. As for the rest? She whispered them into his ear. Almost instantly Gabriella's brother's body stiffened, his face colored a scarlet red, and had a bemused look on his face.

"Aww," Gabriella cooed and, rubbing her nephew's head, said to him "Apparently pregnancy sex beats out make-up sex. Something to keep in mind, baby boy, when your turn comes."

She quickly removed herself from the premises before Anita had a chance to get her. Laughing all the way downstairs, she slipped on her leather jacket and started her bike.

"Yo! Gabs!" Gabriella saw Robbie out and about in his blue Chevy truck. She waved at him. "Why aren't you wearing your new shirt?"

Gabriella rolled her eyes. He was referring to the shirt that was included in his Christmas package for her. When Rob mailed a packaged gift for her, she didn't know what to expect, but now it occurred her she should have seen it coming. A white cotton t-shirt with the words, ME HEART THE COCK, written in bold red across the chest. Thankfully that was only a gag gift. He also included extra goodies: two cartons of Marlboro and big bag of pot.

"Fuck you!" Gabriella told him

"Trust me. Wearing that school will you get a line of hungry boys wanting a pop of your cherry," He laughed off the finger she sent him. "It might even help land you a special someone."

A special someone? She snorted. Like she'd actually acknowledge the weenie-balls-for-brains bah sheep East High tried to pass off as boys.

"Fuck you!" she repeated, sending a double dosage of the finger. Rob laughed once more, honked at her, and rode off.

Gabriella sighed heavily, watching him go. Rob could be such a dick sometimes, it amazed her he remained unscarred during their hang-outs. Then again she usually made him pay for his smart-ass ways later off by denying him access to her goodies.

"I thought he was your boyfriend."

Boyfriend? The word was practically foreign Latin to her. As well as disturbing, with the troubling thought causing a sickening churn in her stomach. She turned to Javier, who suddenly was next to her, a bewildered frown on her face.

"I don't do boyfriends, Javi." she clarified. Hookups? Sure. One night stands? Just as good. Boyfriends? That would be the day when hell freezes over.

"So you're just friends?" Javi asked, in what said like a suspicious-like tone in his voice.

Gabriella shrugged, indifferent. Sure, they were friends. Friends that worked together, drank together, smoked together, and fucked each other whenever they were in the mood. She didn't feel the need to explain the concept of her friendship to Rob with her brother, who didn't need to worry about her business. What was it anyway that made him decide to come down right at the moment anyway? "Come here to give me some milk money and warn me of the dangers of peer pressure, daddy-kins?"

Javier rolled his eyes, annoyed with her sarcasm. "No. Happy to see how refreshingly charming you can be in the morning," He took in a deep and looked her in the eye, his own very solemn. "We need to talk."

Sweet Jesus. Why didn't he just do a talk show if he was in a chatty mood? She was sure someone else would appreciate it. Because she most certainly didn't. "About what?"

"About what happened." Without meaning to, her eyes slide over to his, the unspoken words clear in the silence between the brother and sister. What happened in September. Their mess of the mother and how she once again managed to screw things up. How their once close relationship was now a delicate, brittle thing that was dangerously titling over. The reasons behind it.

The sick churn she had when Javier dropped the b-word was nothing compared to the nausea making a mess with her stomach now. Gabriella refused to acknowledge it. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Ella-"

"Don't call me that!" Hearing his nickname from her from when they were innocent and close unleashed a string of memories that worsened the nausea.

"See!" he pointed out. "This is what I'm talking about. I've been giving you space. I'm been trying to be patient. But this has gone on far enough. You may put up a front that's everything alright, but it's clear it's not over for you." His tone went noticeably gentle as he came close to her, holding her cheek in one hand and rubbing small circles on it. It was something he often did to calm her down when she was a kid. "Ella, talk to me."

She would. If she were little Ella again, she definitely would. She'd lean into her brother's touch, walk into his arms that would be made her feel safe, and tell him everything. Because he was her big brother that tried to make things better, that promised her he'd make things okay. But she wasn't little Ella anymore. She grew up, they both did. Little Ella was dead, and there was no reason to bring back the dead.

Gabriella jerked away from his touch, pushing him away. "I have nothing to say!" She kicked off her stand and rode off with a mean roar.

* * *

><p><em>Jesus Christ. Why didn't I "accidentally" miss my plane when I had the chance?<em>

It was the fourteenth time Gabriella had that thought going around her head as she was walked through the halls of the East High, feeling like she was about to puke any second.

The school was overly doused in red and white, featuring a huge billboard on the front lawn, written in white glitter 'WELCOME BACK WILDCATS!' The place overflowed with students walking in their groups, screaming at the sight of their friends, rushing over to hug or jump on one another like they haven't seen each other in years. And-the most annoying of all-a majority of curious eyes and whispers keeping track of her every move.

"I heard she was busted at the airport for possession of cocaine."

"I heard she got so horny, she slept with, like, five different guys in one night. With two threesomes on top of that."

Jesus Christ. Gabriella rolled her eyes, annoyed. Whoever said high school was the best four years of your life clearly didn't have to deal with annoying gossipers who obviously had too much time on their hands.

"I heard it took ten body guards to pull her away from Kim Kardashian because she spilled some margarita on Montez's dress," Whoever the bitch was that was talking apparently wanted to be heard. She raised her voice, staring pointedly at Gabriella. "How much you want to bet it was most likely a cheap, fugly knock-off from Goodwill?"

Gabriella turned around to face the voice's source, staring into the ice-cold gaze of East High's most infamous head bitch, Heather Homes. Leaning against her locker, which was conveniently (not!) right across from hers, sneering at Gabriella and enjoying her minions' laughter at her lame put-down.

_Yup, I definitely should have missed the plane when I had the chance_, thought Gabriella, finding yet another reason (one of the top ten) why she longed to be rid of Albuquerque. It wasn't like she was intimidated by the school's Queen Bee. The thought amused Gabriella. Homes thought she was untouchable because Daddy was big in the bank and she wasn't a sore sight for eyes. Gabriella, however, knew her type. She dealt with dozens of snobs at her old school who thought they were hot shit only to get their asses beaten by her.

She'd love to see the bitch and her crones in her old neighborhood, where hookers and drug-dealers ran amuck, thievery and violence were common, and had boys and girls alike wanting to prove themselves to the local gangs. She gave them her infamous stink-eye that made tough gangbangers think twice before getting on her bad side. The girls flinched as if they looked into the hard, deadly gaze of a cobra. Including a flushing Heather who soon remembered her identity and gave Gabriella a disgusting sneer that made her look like a raving rabbit dog.

_Definitely five seconds,_ Gabriella decided. That was how long they'd last. Before the dogs came out to have at it with their new chew toys. Ten seconds tops if they were lucky.

Gabriella gave the finger to the Queen and blew her a kiss, which had her steaming in red. She increased the volume of her iPod and swayed her hips lightly to Bon Jovi's _Wanted Dead or Alive_ as she opened her locker. According to her schedule she had AP Chemistry after homeroom, then Spanish, AP Calculus and Lab. So her morning was basically going to be one long snooze-fest but she could always use Spanish to catch up on some shuteye.

In the midst of collecting her things and rearranging her locker, her keen instincts piqued as she picked up the presence behind her like a shark approaching fresh blood. Coming closer and closer, his hand reaching for-

Quick and fluid as Catwoman, Gabriella grabbed the creep's arm, flipped him over her shoulder, and twisted the arm attached to the hand that tried to grope her ass, placing her foot firmly against the perv's neck. She couldn't tell which was more satisfying. The loud, hard fall he took. Or the fact he had fallen into the same trap as many others before him. Those who believed, because of her size, she was an easy target and found out (often the very hard way) that was far from true.

The once smug stud was now reduced to a bewildered, fearful mouse. Gabriella smirked, taking pleasure in his shock. Along with the hush silence that was created by her moves.

"Let's get three things straight," Gabriella said to the boy, but was actually addressing the matters to the growing audience. She listed them off with each flip of her finger. "First off, my ass is _not _up for grabs. By anyone. Much less by little, idiotic boys like you," Her second finger shot up. "Secondly, you children are nowhere near close to my league. I highly suggest you knock down the egos telling you otherwise or I'll personally knock them down for you. Thirdly,"

She lifted her foot off the idiot's neck slightly, only to bring it back down hard. Not enough to fatally wound him but enough to leave a bruise. A reminder to him and his clowns for friends what could happen when you pushed her. "The next asshole who tries to grope me will be spitting out his balls and shitting out his teeth. And that's not a threat, assholes. It's a promise."

After giving the dude's arm one more twist, Gabriella grabbed her things and headed off to Dumbass' homeroom. Along the way she felt a particular gaze that made her to look over her shoulder.

A familiar pair of innocent, incredibly baby blues that watched her.

Pup.

For a moment she had forgotten all about the badness between them, getting lost in the sweet sea of blue.

Till her mind caught itself and remembered. He thought she was trouble. A bad influence. Someone he shouldn't hang around with because Daddy Dearest would never approve. The God-damn wuss.

She gave him such a fierce scowl, nearly everyone in his "possess" took a step back, flinching. She carried on, setting her shades in place.

During AP Cal, it was clear none of the brainics understood the fifteen-paged homework the teacher, Miss Applebalm, gave them over break. So they spent most of class time reviewing, asking questions, trying to do the problems that were hard, and even more reviewing.

Since she was the only one who actually got all the problems, which seemed like easy middle school stuff to her, she used the class time for some journal time.

As she flipped over to the next page in her book, she sneaked a quick glance at the teacher, curious to see what they were doing. Teach, who was heftily eight months along in her pregancy, worked on problem fifty-four that was a real brain-scrambler for students. She had broken down the problem into nine equations, coming close to the answer.

"So class, this would be the final answer." She wrote down the final piece to the complicated puzzle. She wiped her hands clean of the chalk. "Eighteen over pi."

"That's what I got!" Gabriella rolled her eyes at the eagerly glee tone in over-achiever McKessie's voice. "And it took me over an hour to figure it out."

_And golly geez, Teach, I got such a thrill from doing the work. It was so invigorating. _Gabriella was sure those words were pretty similar to the words McKessie was babbling on about to the teacher.

Miss Applebalm smiled at Taylor. "Then you earned yourself twelve extra bonus points that will go toward your semester grade."

McKessie was so excited, she was beaming. Getting perfect grades must be the highlight of her life.

"Please." Gabriella snorted.

"Yes, Miss Montez?" Great. Teach apparently decided now she could actually hear them, and that Gabriella should be in the classroom spotlight. "Is there something wrong? Does the answer not satisfy you?"

McKessie turned back to glare at her, obvious dislike in her eyes. Gabriella met it with a sly smile.

Getting back to Applebalm, she told the teacher "I wasn't going to say anything, but since you seem so curious I'll be straight with you. You're off by two. It's sixteen over pi. Not eighteen. Seems a little too high."

"The only thing that's a little too high is you, Montez. Along with your ego," Taylor shot back, the snarl in her tone causing everyone to take a second glance at her. "I did the calculations twice. Checked the numbers twice. The answer is eighteen over pi."

Poor, poor Ace-obsessed girl. Gabriella couldn't tell whether to be amused by her or pity her.

Miss Applebalm, was on McKessie's side and said to Gabriella "I have to agree with Miss McKessie on this one, Miss Montez. I also checked the calculations twice. The answer is eighteen over pi"

"Well you know what they say, Balm," Gabriella smiled an innocent-looking smile "Third time's the charm."

Applebalm frowned at the challenge but decided to give a whirl. Most likely she did it because, like McKessie, she wanted Gabriella to learn her place. To know that the teacher and star pupil were right, and would always be right.

So when Applebalm checked out the problem in her textbook and the answer, the chalk slipped from her hand and cracked. Much like the smug smile on her face that was there a few seconds ago. She followed the way the book had done it, which Gabriella pointed out was the exact thing she had down in half the time, and her jaw nearly joined her broken chalk as she saw the same answer again.

Pretty much everyone in the class was dumfounded by the discovery, especially McKessie whose jaw was close to the ground. Everyone except for Gabriella that is. She was enjoying this moment.

"…" It took several tries for Applebalm to shut out of her shock. She had to close her mouth with her hand. Clearing her voice, she said "Apparently I stand corrected. The answer is sixteen over pi."

Gabriella didn't need to say she told her so. The satisfied smirk on her face said it all. She shrugged indifferently to the bewildered faces around her. "What can I say? I'm pretty face _and_ I have a brain to go with it."

* * *

><p>There was no one happier to see free period come than Gabriella. Her previous class, Lab, was a completely bitch to deal with. Today they had to scan cell structures under the microscope and analyze the movements. The Kicker? They had to do it with the partner she chose for them.<p>

The one she chose for Gabriella was none other than pup Bolton. If that was not some sign from fate itself she made big mistake for not missing her flight when she had the chance, she didn't know what was.

When it time for them to get together, she anticipated more pleas and explanations, him wanting to her to understand his side of the story. Instead he did the exact opposite. He simply sat beside her, and two of them took turns with the lens, studying the cell structure and writing it down in their notes.

It was a smart move, she had to admit. If he tried to say anything stupid, she'd "accidentally" spill some chemicals on his pants. Or stab him with her pen. He did, however, spend most of time, when he wasn't studying the cell or writing, staring at her. Stared at her in an overly intense, close-to-creepy, Douchward Cullen-like way. Like he was convinced if he stared hard enough, some inner warmth would melt the frost in her heart and make her forgive him.

_Stare away, Bolton_, she had thought._ Hope my right side looks good_. Interestingly enough he wasn't the only one watching her. McKessie, obviously still pissed from Calculus, sent her a glare every time she looked up. Twiddle Dumb whom she recognized as Homes' brunette friend stole glances at her while she texted on her phone, as if she was reporting every one of her movements to Queenie.

Gabriella stopped short, her brow arching slightly at the sight of Heather Homes perched in front of her locker, filing her nails while keeping her cool green eyes locked with Gabriella. "Is there something I can help you with, Queenie?"

Word around school was because of the video Gabriella sent to the principal of Heather and her clones attacking tiny freshman Dora, the three of them got so screwed. They were sentenced to two months of detention with Ms. Darbus, suspended from the cheerleading squad, and Heather lost her positions as both head cheerleader and dance captain. Not only that but had to spend their break doing community work, picking trash from the highway in the harsh cold weather.

It was clear the mean girls were after blood. Gabriella's blood to be more specific.

Heather took her sweet time finishing off her pinkie nail before looking back at Gabriella. She studied the Latina from head to toe, going back to her eyes with a smirk beginning to show on her lips. The chick must have believed that was her most intimidating look. "Since you're new to the whole schooling system, as well as the country, I thought I explained some things to you, Spic."

Gabriella snorted at her stupid racist comment, which soured Heather's smirk into a scowl. "And what things would that be?"

"The fact that in every school there is a powerful girl known as the queen bee who controls the school. Here at the East High that queen bee would be me. I run this school, so that means I basically run people's lives, too."

"The only thing you run around here, Homes, is your mouth," Gabriella said. "You think you're so special, but the truth of the matter is I've met thousands of girls like you. And I wasn't impressed or intimated by any of you snot-nose bitches."

Heather came closer to her, invading her personal space. She was lucky Gabriella had little patience left otherwise the mean girl would find herself struck down to the ground with a bloody nose. "Oh really? How about the fact I can easily make or break you with just one word?"

Okay, now this was just getting annoying. Putting matters into her own hands, Gabriella shoved the bimbo off of her locker. She cut Heather off, saying "How about the fact I could care less. Or how about the fact I can easily use my fist," Balling her hand up tightly, she brought it close to Heather's face. "to break every tooth in that pretty little mouth of yours."

Homes seemed stunned. Stunned and pissed. Clearly she wasn't use to others defying her."You better watch yourself, Montez, or I'll make your life at East High a living hell."

"No," Gabriella corrected. "I'll be the one doing the hell-making if _you_ and your bim-bots get in my way. So you better watch it, Homes."

"You've been warned, skank." she said with a vicious look in her eye and walked away.

Gabriella watched Heather walk away, still processing the fact the bitch actually thought she could intimidate Gabriella into cowering before her feet. And tried to make threats and get up in her face. If she were back in New York, she wouldn't have wasted a breath talking. She'd let her fists do all the talking for her. If it wasn't for the fact she had Javi and a pain in the ass social worker breathing down her neck, she would have yanked a fistful of Blondie's hair, throw her against the lockers, and beat her little snotty ass.

Twisting the combination of her locker, she opened the locker, surprised to see an envelope fell from the top shelf and land in front of her feet. Squatting down, she looked at the envelope before she opened it, took out the yellow lined paper, and read it.

**Apparently the rooftop is the only place, other than the library and dance studio, that you actually like at the school. Meet me there. **

**Before you roll your eyes and throw this in the trash, be warned that I will ****not**** leave you alone until you let me say what I want to say to you. **

**I mean it, Montez. **

God-damn it. Growling in annoyance, Gabriella crinkled the note in her hand and flung into the nearest waste basket. She should have known from the way he was watching her, it was only a matter of time before he made a move.

She would much rather stick her tongue on the street and have a bus run over it than say five words to Bolton. Or rather five civil words to him. If if just cursing he wanted, then she was all for that. But from what she observed of him, despite his spineless and shy nature, there was stubbornness. She had a good feeling he would keep pestering her until she talked to him. So the question was whether she should confront the irritation now or put off till later.

After thinking about for a few seconds, Gabriella sighed heavily and headed in the direction to the rooftop, silently asking God to give her the strength.


	19. Chapter 19

**ET Chapter 19: Breaking Walls and Revealing Confessions**

The rooftop at East High wasn't much as a rooftop, but more so an exotic nature garden of some sort with its exotic flower beds and trees filling nearly every inch of the place, giving the place such an unusual blend of fresh scents.

She loved the rooftop because it gave her complete privacy to read write or even dance if she was in the mood without having an unwanted audience making her a spectacle.

Today, though, she hated the fact she had go up to the rooftop. She resented every step she was taking that brought her closer to Pup.

A part of her, the bad-ass Montez, was stunned that she was actually going through with this shit. She wasn't one to take orders; she was the one to fuck orders off because no one ordered her around. Issue was Bolton made it clear he wasn't going to leave her alone until they talked. A talk that will likely involve him doing all the talking and she all the listening. Christ knows it was one conversation she not looking, but it's always better to rip the bandage off in a flash than to do it slowly.

Taking the last step up, Gabriella was immediately surrounded by all kinds of flowers and plants. Amazingly, the flowers were still around and blossoming. Winter barely hit Albuquerque, unlike other places like New York where it was a 24/7 snow blizzard.

The mixed scent of nature almost made her smile. Almost, till she spotted him.

Bolton was seated onto the ceiling rails in the center of the roof. He spotted her before she spotted him. He had an odd expression on his face, like he couldn't tell whether he should show relief that she was there or keep his distance because of the dark frown on her face. He leaned more toward the caution, sitting right down while Gabriella slowly walked over to him. "You came."

_No shit, Sherlock_, she thought, rolling her eyes. She searched through her bag for her Marlboro pack, fishing out a cigarette.

"You're lucky I needed a cigarette break." She stuck the lit cigarette in her lips, taking a long drag. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the unmistakable sour look on Bolton's face as she smoked. For some reason seeing that pissed her off more it should. He knew she smoked, so it wasn't like it was some big secret. Taking another drag, she blew the smoke directly into his face, throwing the Stiff into a coughing fit. 'You have five minutes. Go."

"Charming," Cough. "As." Cough-cough. "Always, Montez."

Gabriella smirked at him as she took another drag, blowing the smoke above her head. "Where I come from, Bolton, you need charm to survive."

He spent a good half minute coughing like crazy. Once he was able to breathe, he released a big breath and then lightly tapped his chest, as if there were some smoke left over in there. Looking up at Gabriella, who was concentrating on the bed of lilies in front of them, he said "I'm sorry that I hurt you."

Hurt who!? Stunned his words, she inhaled too quickly and nearly coughed her lungs out. She smacked away Bolton's hands that tried to touch her and went through the painful, coughing fiasco until she was able to finally catch her breath.

"Hurt who?" she asked in disbelief.

"You," he answered. Out of all the conversations the two had, this was the first one Bolton had the surprise upper-hand. "You were really hurt by what my dad thinks of you, what I said, and what you thought I meant. I'm really sorry you took it to heart. It was never my intention."

Hurt her? Taking his crap to heart? Never his intention? What the hell! Gabriella stared at Troy, unsure how to process what she was hearing.

"Gabriella?" He waved a hand in front of her face. "Are you there?"

He repeated her name again, getting closer to her. Then he was almost knocked out by the _incredibly_ loud laughter that burst out of her.

Gabriella laughed such a big, uncontrollable laugh that shook her small body. She tried covering her mouth to contain it, but the laughter refused to die down. It seemed like the more she tried to stopping laughing, the harder and louder she laughed.

"You actually think…you…hurt…me." It was hard to understand her. She looked into his confused face and laughed so hard, she was crying. She moved away from Troy, walking over to the side, hands pressed against her stomach, head thrown back, tears that flowed down her cheeks.

"Gabriella," he repeated again.

"You know what's so funny, Bolton," she said, still laughing. "The first time I met you, I knew you were nothing but a puppy. A little, scared puppy," She wiped away a tear. "Now I realize something. You're not only a pup," With each word she spoke, her laughter died down and her voice grew louder, more angrily. "You're a weak, spineless, full-of-fucking-shit, craps-for-brains asshole!"

His eyes narrowed coldly: not that Gabriella gave a shit. Let him get offended. She could care less. "Is that what you think?" he demanded. "That I'm a scared little puppy afraid of my own shadow."

Gabriella let out a breath of coldly amused laughter that was brittle as glass. "Not think, Bolton. _Know_. It's a goddamn common fact."

Troy took an angry step closer, his face becoming ugly as a nasty scowl formed on his lips. "And what exactly do you know?"

"That you can't exorcise your brother's ghost. You're not only letting yourself get weighed down by unnecessary guilt, you're also letting your cock-sucker of a dad steal your life away because an accident stole Mike's. And you know what? You actually know it. You know it, Bolton, but you don't do anything about it because you rather go down as a mournful martyr. I guess you rather pretend all's bright in the Bolton's paradise than actually face fucking reality," She looked at him with utmost disgust. "You're pathetic."

If Pup was any other guy, he'd pour down his hell-fury wrath on her. He'd curse her out; try to defend himself. But Pup was Pup. He waited until she was done talking and paused, as if he were taking in all she had to say. He looked at her with an expression that for once she couldn't read.

On some level it was the same look he and others had given her before. Directly-straight on interest sparked by her face, hunger-glazed staring at her body. Yet even then, his stare has always been different. More. As if he was seeing more than her looks and body, more than her snarl and her troublesome nature. More deeply, like he could see into her soul.

Which was exactly how he was looking at her now. It was as if his eyes flew right past her walls, past her stone-barriers, and saw her. A her that she never let anyone else saw before.

"Well I guess it takes a pretender to know a pretender." Gabriella was so rattled by Bolton's barrier-piercing stare; she didn't make sense to his words until he was near the end. Once she out them together, anger fired up inside her.

"What the _fuck_ did you just say?!"

"You heard me," Bolton calmly said, as if he was an adult trying to soothe down an irritated child. His calm tone pissed her off even more. "It's takes a good pretender to know another. To know what's it like to be trapped in the past. You're just as good at pretending, Montez. Actually, even better."

Her? Pretending? What planet was his idiot from? "You're fucking insane, Bolton."

"And you're a hypocrite," Troy shot back. "You come out as a fearless badass who doesn't give a shit about anything, but we both know that's a lie," He took another step closer to her; neither of them realized how close they were to each other. "You have your own demons to deal with that are just as bad. Ghosts, like your mom."

Gabriella's hand flew to Bolton's face before she could control herself, completely enraged. But Bolton, damn him, anticipated that move. He easily grasped her wrist before she could smack him. She tried pulling her hand away, but he refused to let go. "Fuck you!"

Ignoring her outburst, Troy continued on, speaking in that fucking calm voice that was nails on a chalkboard to her ears. "Your mom haunts you, Gabriella. I can see in your eyes. Her and old life. You never felt much love or care in your old home."

Showed how much he knew. That shit-hole she lived in for almost eighteen years wasn't home to her. It was hell. "I'm not haunted by anything!" She tried to pull back her hand, but Bolton refused to let go.

"She hurt you," Hearing those three words stopped Gabriella cold. "Hurt you in every way possible, and then some. But that's not enough reason for you to have such thick walls. The reason for them is because you're afraid."

"So what am I so afraid of, Mr. Einstein? Since you claim to know me so well."

"Being abandoned. Being left behind," Gabriella couldn't deny the fact she was stunned by his accusation. "You're scared of letting someone in because there's a good chance that they could leave you. My best guess is someone you trusted, a best friend or someone close to home, scattered your trust in people. Betrayed you."

She turned her head away, choosing not to answer. It was the best route she could take. Unfortunately it didn't help ease the ache painful pricking at her chest.

"_You're nothing but fucking pieces of shit!" Even with her pillow pressed against her head and her body buried under their blankets, she could still hear everything. The screaming, the cursing, the banging. "The goddamn both of you."_

"_Pieces of shit! The fucking both of you useless brats!" she heard her mother's slurred yell. _

"_Better being shits than being a fucking whore!" Javi yelled back. Normally, that kind of move would be considered a suicide attempt. Only Javi wasn't afraid of Maria. He stopped being afraid of her a long time ago. _

_The room was filled with silence, dead silence that was quickly pierced by the sound of a loud crash. A sound that had to have come from Javier being pushed against the wall._

_Gabriella felt so ashamed. She was eleven, not four. She shouldn't be hiding away in their room while her brother was dealing with damage control. _

_If he could face the Wicked Witch of West, then she could, too. _

_Gabriella ran to the living room and screamed at her mother's back "LEAVE HIM ALONE!"_

_Maria rose the belt high in the air, ready to smack her brother again. In front of her was her eighteen year old brother, down on his hands and knees, bloody marks lashed across his back with a swollen black eye. _

_Slowly, the dragon lady turned around, her eyes heavily glazed from the liquor and lit with such fiery fury. Her dark hair was a tangled mess, her stained nightgown hung loosely on her thin frame, her arms freshly pricked by drug-filled syringes. _

_Looking into those fiery, hatred-filled eyes, Gabriella felt her momentary bravery dissolving. She then noticed some cracks in the witch's armor. A black eye that was just as bad Javi's, a fat lip just as ugly, scars that Javi must had done to defend himself. _

_He fought back, she realized. It gave her the courage to face off her mother. _

"_What the hell did you just say to me, you little brat?" Maria dropped the belt and slowly walked over to her, her bony hands balling up into tight fists. _

"_I said leave him alone," Gabriella repeated. "Or should I say it again for you in Spanish-"_

_Her head nearly flew off her shoulders by the harsh slap Maria struck across her face. _

"_You think you're so much better than me, don't you, bitch?" Gabriella chose not to answer, glaring at her mother while holding her swollen cheek. The silent treatment grinded on Maria's nerves. She yanked Gabriella's hair so hard, her scalp nearly bleed, forcing the young girl to look up at her. "You're nothing but a fucking whore! You think you're so much better than me, but in reality you're a useless, worthless piece of-"_

"_Enough!" Javi charged like bull toward them. Gabriella freed her just in time, avoiding the hard shove Javi slammed against Maria, knocking them over the coffee table. Maria yelled as she attacked her son, but Javi stood his ground. He blocked almost every punch and slap she threw, but there was some he couldn't avoid. Like her sharp nails that slashed his cheeks. _

"_Leave him alone!" Gabriella screamed, but her words had little effort on them. The two were locked in a fit of struggle, Maria attacking and Javi blocking. She would have joined the fight if it wasn't for the darkly threatening glare Javi threw her that made her stay put. _

"_Fucking asshole!" Maria spat hatefully. "Just like your dumbass father!"_

_Growling, Javi grabbed both her wrists and pinned them to her sides. "At least he had enough brains to leave your cheap ass."_

"_You did not just say that to-" Javi silenced her rant with a hard, solid slap, a move that stunned Maria just as it did Gabriella. _

_It was one thing to rise your hand when you were trying to defend yourself against her when she was beating you. It was quite another to raise that hand when she was yelling at you. _

_Once he taken care of Maria, he grabbed Gabriella and ran back to their room, slamming the door. The second they were out of sight, Maria started screaming again. _

"_You're only kidding yourself, bitch, if you think your fucking knight in shining armor will protect your worthless ass forever! The moment you least expect, you'll be left in the dust. You'll be ditched! You hear me? DITCHED!"_

_The words hit Gabriella hard in the gut. Harder than when Maria threw a vodka bottle at her leg. Harder then when she was burnt by her cigarettes. Harder than all her lashes, punches, and kicks combined. _

_Gabriella looked up at her brother. He was speaking to her, yelling at her, but she couldn't hear a thing he was saying. The nausea that was churning her stomach blocked out the sound of his words. _

_Ever since she was old enough to talk, Javi and her made plans to run away. They'd often stay up late underneath their magic tent, planning their great escape. How the second Javi was older, they'd disappear into the night like Batman, how they'll pack up only their most important haves, hide out in a secret apartment in California and live off nothing but junk food. _

_Yet lately it seemed her brother doesn't recall their plans. Or care. He had too much going on with him. His job at the community center, his issues with the Red Bloods, and his graduation. In a few short days he'd become the first member of the family to actually graduate high school. Lately he has been spending more time outside of home, spending more time at the boxing center, partying with his friends till dawn, basically doing whatever he could to keep out of the house. Avoiding Maria, and avoiding her. _

_Bit by bit, Javi was pulling away from them. Pulling away from her. Some nights, she'd study him while he slept, memorizing every feature of his face into her memory. Some nights she'd need to look around at their room and see his things to know that he was still with her. For now at least. _

_But in a few days he was going to be free. Free to leave and never look back. And she…would still be trapped. _

_She hadn't realize she was crying till Javi was squinted down to her level, wiping away the damn annoying tears that felt like acid on her cheeks. _

"_Hey, hey, hey," he said gently. "It's okay, Ella. Everything's gonna be okay."_

_Okay? He was soon going to be on his own while she was stuck in this hellhole with the devil's wife-correction whore. Maria's drinking and drugging was getting worse and more frequent. Her brother was mad at her because she was trying to bail him out. And now he was saying everything was going to be fine. _

_The situation was so fucked up, it was almost laughable. She opened her mouth, ready to laugh, but out came a dry sob that broke Javi's heart. Before she knew it, she was sobbing hysterically, hot tears streaming down her cheeks, snot oozing from her nose, loud hiccups erupting from her mouth._

"_SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU BITCH! Or I'll rip your goddamn throat out!"Maria shouted. Gabriella tried holding them in, but the tears refused to be silent. _

"_Try it and I'll end you, whore!" Javi shouted at her. _

"_You're only fooling yourself if you think that bitch is worth saving, asshole."_

_Ignoring the drunkard, Javi tended to his sister. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead gently. He then pulled her into his arms, holding her tight as she sobbed into his shirt._

"_Ella, don't let Maria get to you," He rubbed her cheek in a circular motion that always calmed her down. "The bruja doesn't have any idea what she's talking about."_

_With one last, painful hiccup, Gabriella swallowed down her sobs and pulled away from her brother. "What if she is"_

"_Ella-"_

"_You're leaving, Javi," she reminded him. "You have nothing in this shithole to make you stay. Let's face it. You don't want to have any baggage with you when you leave." She almost started crying again, but was able to hold it in this time. _

"_You're wrong." He held her cheek in his hand. "It's gonna be okay, Ella. I promise," He smiled at her. "It's you and me against the world. Always. Okay?"_

"_Okay." she whispered, a soft smile on her face. _

She hadn't realized she was trembling until Bolton placed a gentle hand on her shoulder to steady her. She was so lost, so far away to even notice his touch.

The deep wound she spent years covering up bleed out, unleashing the anger, shame, and grief she had been trying to bury for years. Her eyes were on fire, burning with hot tears she was desperately trying to keep in. She felt like she was suffocating from the thick lump wedged in her throat.

"Gabriella." She dared not look up. So help her God, if she dared look and he was smug, she'd beat the living daylights out of him.

"Don't fucking touch me!" She smacked away his hand that tried to touch her cheek with such a force, she could spot a faint bruise forming.

She tried to get away from her, to get away before hell let loose. But every move she tried to make, stubborn Bolton blocked every move. "Get out of my fucking way before I punch your fucking daylights out!"

"No." He said.

She didn't have time to deal with this bullshit. She needed to breathe. She needed to not think.

She felt like she was crumbling like a sandcastle inside. The steel walls she had kept up for years trembled down, her chains and locks were slashed easily like papers. She breathed shallowly, running her hands through her hair, trying to keep it all together.

"You were hurt before," he stated, not asked. "By someone who meant something to you."

"FUCK YOU!" she yelled, hating how weak and pathetic she sounded, her voice cracking up. She needed a joint. She needed a drink. She needed a distraction. Any kind of distraction.

Breathe, she told herself. Breathe Montez. Don't cry. Don't cry. Whatever you do, DO NOT CRY.

She closed her eyes tightly, her hands practically ripping her hair as she tried to calm herself down. But the feeling wouldn't go away. The pressure kept building up. She couldn't breathe; she was suffocating.

She didn't realize Bolton was in front of her until she felt his hand gently wiping away a tear. A tear that she hadn't know that was falling until he caught it. She froze.

"You were betrayed by someone who said one thing and did another. It still hurts you to this day. I can see it in your eyes,"

His hand lowered down to her cheek, cupping it in his hand, stroking it tenderly. He noticed how still Gabriella was, like a statue. Silent, unmoving, oblivious to what was going on around her.

"I know the feeling too well. Being left behind. Unable to really open up to anyone because you never know what they can do with that trust. And I'm scared of other things," He took in a deep breath and confessed. "You."

She didn't say a word, but there was something in her eyes, some sort of glint that told him she was curious, so he continued on.

"I'm scared of you because of you are completely unpredictable. I'm scare of you because you're the one person I know that doesn't take bullshit and can give it right back. I'm scared of your big, brown beautiful eyes that hypnotize me. I'm scared of your beauty that allures me. I'm scared of this freaky, unavoidable pull I always feel towards you that I can't ignore. And trust me, I've tried. God knows I've tried. But no matter what, you're always on my mind. And…"

"And what?" she asked, her voice remarkably soft and sad. Broken.

He touched the rim of her sunglasses, waiting. Waiting for her to do something, say something. But Gabriella remained a statue. After waiting for a few more seconds, he took her silence as an invitation to continue. Slowly, he pushed the sunglasses up to her head, unveiling his wicked angel and those memorizing eyes. Eyes that could light with such fury when she was pissed. Eyes that gleamed with mischief when she let loose. Eyes that whether wild or cold always made him tongue-tied whenever they stared back at him. Eyes that was now so flat and hollow as they looked at him. They actually didn't even look at him; they looked right past him. Filled with so many tears, more tears than enough tears to last a lifetime.

"I scared of the fact I can't forget you. That everything and anything can remind me of you. I'm scared of letting you in. But the thing I'm mostly scared of is…."

"Is what?" she asked softly.

Falling for her, even though he already has. Letting himself go with her because she could easily break him. Only he didn't know how to put into words. Something in him nagged that words honestly couldn't and wouldn't be enough.

He looked at her. She looked at him. And what happened next was a complete, unexpected WOW.

_One second_. Bright, incredible warmth surged through Gabriella's entire body as Troy pressed his lips against hers in a gentle, tender kiss.

_Two seconds. _Their heartbeats stopped in unison and their bodies practically came alive with the bright warmth burning within them.

_Three seconds_. Troy found himself sprawled on the ground, a painful throbbing coming from his left jaw.

Dazed by both the unexpected kiss and blow, Troy looked up at Gabriella. Her left fist was tightly clenched, the same fist used to punch in his jaw. Her eyes were still filled with tears, but they were no longer vulnerable. The walls were back up, fiercer and ten times thicker.

"Gabriella-"

"I'm sorry. The Montez's charity kisses have officially expired," she spat venomously. Wiping her lips with her hand, she shuddered in disgust. "Come near me again, I'll sucker punch your jaw right up your empty skull."

She grabbed her bag that somehow was all the way across on the other side, ignoring Bolton calling her name.

"Gabriella! Please!" he begged. "We need to talk."

"We already did," she remarked. "You spoke some words, opened your heart, kissed me, and got punched by me. I'd say this was one hell of a conversation."

"Don't walk away from this, Gabriella," he pleaded. "We need to talk."

She stopped momentary to give him a twisted, taunting smile with a sharp bite. Troy paused, and her smile widened, growing darker. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Bolton. I came from a family full of assholes and bitches, and in that family we have a motto. 'Ditch or get ditched'. If you don't want to get left behind, then you leave first. And I'm done with being left behind."

And so she left. And just like last time he had the pleasure of watching her walk away from him.


	20. Chapter 20

**ET Chapter 20: It all crumbles down **

Stupid.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. So_ fucking _stupid.

Gabriella cupped the lukewarm water in her hands and splashed it onto her face, scrubbing her skin viciously like her life depended on it. Like it could somehow erase those humiliating five minutes.

Those stupid five minutes when she actually allowed herself to be completely undone. By a spineless, weak puppy dog.

_So fucking stupid_, she cursed herself, cupping another puddle of hot water and scrubbing her face so hard it would amaze her if she didn't look burnt by the time she was done.

After the last scrub, she wiped her face dry and looked into her reflection. Really looked into it. Physically, she looked okay. Sure, her eyes were bloodshot red, and there were traces of dry tears on her cheeks. But if one were standing a few feet away, not so wistful and a little clueless, they'd say she looked perfectly fine. That her walls were still intact; that a scrawny pup didn't tear her apart. That was she wasn't practically thrown into the pit of monsters.

Then something happened. The tears started again. She could feel her eyes burning from the horrible sense. God fucking damn it.

Taking in a shaky breath, Gabriella smacked the mirror so hard; she was surprised it didn't break. She searched through her bag for her Marlboro Reds and her lighter.

She tried lighting her cigarette, but her fucking lighter refused to cooperate, acting like a fucking bitch. She bit down hard on her bottom lip to keep herself steady. She could feel her emotions bouncing all over the place, colliding against her walls, against each other, making her feel like she was seconds away from exploding.

_There is no fucking way I'm gonna cry_, Gabriella thought. _Not because of a stupid, fucking lighter that's being a pain in the ass. _

After the hundredth try, she finally got a light. She sucked in her lit cigarette, inhaling as much as nicotine that her lungs would allow, then released a cloud of smoke out the window.

Behind her, she heard a startled gasp that took her level of pissed-ness to a whole new level. Slowly, she turned around, meeting the eyes of a mousy little freshman that picked the worst time to come to the restroom. The way her bright hazel eyes were widen, you'd think she caught her inhaling a blunt or doing a line on the window still.

"Didn't your momma ever tell you it's rude to _fucking stare!?_" Despite the sweet smile Gabriella plastered onto her face, the anger and sharp venom in her voice was frightening to say the least. Without a word, the younger girl fled.

_Idiot_, she thought as she rolled her eyes, grabbing her bag and walking into the handicap-stall. She took a seat on the window still and cracked open the window a bit wider. She took another hit of her cigarette, her eyes focused on the dull green, graffiti walls, looking but not really seeing it, her mind miles away.

She couldn't understand how the hell she could have let this happen. She couldn't believe she actually allowed Bolton to break her like that. She couldn't believe she actually fucking cried in front of him, cried like she was some pathetic little girl that needed rescuing.

A small, twisted smile spread across her face as she took in another drag.

Dear Lord knows there was no point in anyone, even Javier, attempting to rescue her. She was beyond saving.

She could feel the tears resurfacing. She distracted herself by taking long drags of her cigarette and fixing her hair with her hand.

_I never should have come here_, she thought. Forget missing her flight; she should have dodged out of Madame's place the second she saw her long-lost brother at the doorstep. She should have sneaked out the back way when they were at the train station. Or-even better-go to the bathroom and sneak out the window.

Just because Javier, some tight-wad judge, and the system believed that moving her here was the best thing for her doesn't mean it's true. None of them knew what was best for her. None of those asses knew shit.

Sticking hard on cigarette, she gazed out into the window, releasing another stream of smoke. She saw small traces of blue peeking out of the thick cloudy gray.

Blue that was in a deep shaded color. Deep blue; blue that reminded her of the ocean. The beautiful, ocean blue that reminded her of the Pacific Ocean. The Pacific Ocean that was in California, her ideal escapade. A place she always wanted to where she could just easily disappear into, where no one would be able to find her.

_It's not too late_, a voice whispered. _It's not too late to ditch. After all Javier did it. Why not you? _

She could always leave. Just because her brother and social services believed that staying in Albuquerque was what she needed to didn't mean she had to. It was a stupid order anyway, and she wasn't one to follow stupid orders. She could ditch school right now. Go back to Javier's and pack everything she could in her duffle. Gather up all her savings and loose change. Book her flight to California and hide out until it was time for her departure. And figure out where to go from there the second her feet touched Californian soil.

Might not be an excellent, thought-through plan. But it was still a plan, and a good one. A plan that was looking better and better the more she thought about it.

She could do it.

She could get together all her money.

She could pack all the things absolutely needed.

It wasn't like Albuquerque was going to turn upside down with her gone.

Rob was cool, but there would always be tons of girls keeping his company and his bed warm.

As for Anita and Javier? They already had their hands fill with their mountain of bills, their busy schedules, and Paco and baby number two.

She was actually doing them a favor. With her gone, the young parents would have one less thing to worry about. One less mouth to feed. One less body to take care of.

Sure Anita would be hurt. And little Paco would miss her. And her brother-God, she didn't even want to think about that.

He was hoping her stay would magically fix things, but there were some things that can't be fixed.

She could do this.

She could really do this.

But…

That evil, dreaded, pain-in-the-ass fucking BUT. It was always there to complicate everything, rain down on the good-day parade. And right then, it was clouding around her good plan.

But… there were ticks to her plan.

Like the fact her social worker, Ms. Tooty-Snotty, would inform the court of her disappearance and drag her ass back.

Her social worker could pin-point her running away as a sign of rebellion. Or take it one step further and take it as a sign of her running from an unsafe place, stirring questions of Javier's and Anita's treatment of her. Hell, maybe raise questions on how they treat their son.

Good God, there could be a chance Paco could get taken away, placed in the shitty foster home, and it'd be all her fault.

She couldn't let that happen to him, not to her precious one. There were too many assholes in the foster homes that take strays in to make a quick buck. She refused to have her nephew be a greedy bastard's cash cow.

As much as she hated it-and she did so with all her heart-she couldn't ignore what could possibly happen to her…family if she left. Shit could go down. Shit that would make things worse.

Gabriella took an angry hit of her cigarette, cursing.

She hated this; she really hated this. The whole situation was completely fucked-up. But as much as she hated this place, she couldn't leave. Things were shitty enough as it already was, and she didn't want to make it worse.

She inhaled the cigarette slowly as she thought things through, releasing the cloud of smoke.

Things were shitty. Completely shitty. But she dealt with shitty. She did so for a good majority of her life. No matter how shitty things got, she always pulled through. So there was no reason for her to admit defeat just yet.

Taking one last hit of her cigarette, Gabriella tossed the snub into the toilet, flushing it down with her boot's heel.

She had to stay.

She had to. For the sake of her "extended family" For herself.

Should shit get in her way, and most likely will, she'll push through it.

She came out from the stall and splashed a handful of cold water onto her face. After she dried her face with a paper towel, she checked her reflection one last time, searching for any kinks, and found that she looked fine. Calm, cool and in control.

Satisfied, she nodded to herself, ran her hand though her hair one more time, and left the restroom.

* * *

><p>It was the sight of the school secretary that caused the noise in Creative Literature to decease significantly.<p>

It was the sight of the men in blue that caused chatter and commotion in Creative Literature to come to an abrupt halt.

The bright-red, curly-haired women spent a good two minutes biting her nails nervously before walking over to Mr. Cummings and talking to him in hush-hush tones. Overweight, gut-bulging officers one and two were trying to intimidate the class with their serious, no-nonsense expressions and their dark glares.

Everyone else looked like they were close to pissing in their pants, unable to withstand the harsh glares. Everyone except Gabriella. Harsh glares were a common thing she was used to, in both her old school and house. What she did find odd, though, that was that those harsh, dark glares seemed to be laser-beam right at her.

_What the hell?_ She thought.

The red-head Shirley Temple took a step away from the teacher and brushed back a loose red curl, looking very much uncomfortable. Like she was asked to complete a task she didn't find particularly pleasant.

"Miss Montez," Almost every head whipped toward her direction in unison. A sight that would have been almost comical if not for the troubled looks in the teachers' faces. "Mr. Matsui would like to see you in his office. Immediately."

It was funny; the way the secretary said it so tentatively like it was an invitation she should strongly consider when it clear that it wasn't a request. It was more like a summon.

She was never gladder to have her black shades, which gave off the impression of complete indifference, as if she couldn't care less about the Principal's "request" Not that she did, because she totally didn't. And while she could easily mask her face into an expressionless mask, her shades gave her that little something extra.

She grabbed her things together and didn't even wait for security to lead the way. She was already on her way to the office.

There was a bunch of people out in the halls, witnesses to her summon. All of them gaping, whispering, and taking pictures of her march to execution or texting their friends the details.

She ignored them all. It was nothing after. They were nothing; nothing but vultures that were hungry for reactions. Hungry for tears, fear, humiliation, and, everyone's favorite, tears. Too bad they weren't getting any.

She kept her shades down and her face cool as Po-Po one opened the door for her, revealing the stone-hard glares that came from the principal. Her face didn't break for a second when she saw her brother was also invited to the party. She didn't even flinch when she saw her deeply reddened, far-from-pleased, extremely pissed social worker, Ms. "Tweety" Teeter.

Tweety was a nickname Gabriella given the woman, thanks to her excessive use of the color yellow. Everything on her was a bright, blinding shade of yellow from her yellow suits, yellow high-heels, even her blonde hair that looked more like a fake blond than a natural blond, despite the countless times the woman said otherwise. The woman didn't also help herself by being a notorious gossiper that didn't know when to put a sock in it.

"Glad to see you were able to make time from your busy schedule of saving poor orphans and being a fertile godmother for little, ole me, Ms. Tweety." Gabriella said. She took a seat at the empty chair that was laid in front of Matsui's desk.

She didn't need to turn around to know she was pushing the woman's buttons. She could hear her nasty, yellow-teeth cracking from the hard teeth-grinding.

Po-Po one locked the door behind them, leaning against it with his arms crossed. Po-Po two stood beside the principal, looking like he was ready to defend the short Asian man if things got hectic.

Just as it was in the classroom, everyone's eyes were all on Gabriella, glaring hard, waiting for some sort of reaction. Any sort of reaction.

Keeping her face neutral, Gabriella made herself comfortable in the stiff, red plastic chair, crossing her legs and arms, leaning back, titling her head slightly as she looked up at the Principal.

Without a word, Principal Matsui pulled something from his desk, laid it on his desk, and, using two fingers, pushed it toward Gabriella. It was a bag filled with drugs: a couple of pills-ecstasy she had to guess-a half-lit joint and a small scarp of weed, and a pouch of cocaine.

_What the fuck?_ Gabriella thought, her eyes narrowing. She drew her eyes away from the bag, up to the Principal's suspicious eyes. He looked at her as if she had some kind of explanation.

"Ms. Cather received a note saying there was some suspicious activity that's been going on in the school. Suspicious activity that was being held in your locker, Ms. Montez, which was where we found these," Giving the bag another nudge toward her, he said "On the top shelve, in plain sight."

"Is there anything you'd like to say?" said Po-Po one who was giving her what he probably thought was his best Samuel L Jackson-like badass, motherfucker glare.

"Those aren't mine," was all she had to say.

The security guard snorted. Most likely he heard those words more times than he could count. Principal Matsui, however, wasn't so amused. He looked ten times more pissed. "Tell me the truth, Ms. Montez."

"Fine," Shit-head wanted the truth. She was going to give the truth. Sitting up straight in her seat, she looked right into the man's eyes, hoping her words would get through his thick skull. "Either you must be incredibly deaf or gullible. And given current circumstances, I'm leaning more on the second one."

Tweety gasped, stunned by her straight-forward bluntness. Javier looked like he wanted to strangle her.

Ignoring them both, Gabriella continued on, saying "Because I don't deal drugs. And I sure as hell don't do them."

Okay, so maybe the last part wasn't completely accurate, but it was true in a way. Sure, she did pot every once in awhile, but that was all she did. After seeing and experiencing the effects hard-core drugs, such as coke and heroin, had on Maria, she made a promise to herself she wasn't going to fell under their spell.

"They were found in your locker!" stated door-guarding, Officer Obvious.

Gabriella rolled her eyes at him. "And considering the fact I've never seen this bag until now and the fact I don't deal, then that must be that I'm being framed."

"By whom?" he fired back.

Damn, that was a good question. It was clear that almost every Wildcat at the school was intimated by her, but there were two people who weren't overly fond of her presence: McKessie and Homes, along with her band of bimbos. She had been on McKessie's hit list the moment she raised her hand in Anatomy and told teacher the girl had mixed up two key concepts of the brain's functions. An action that didn't go unnoticed by the reigning Queen of Knowledge. Then again, Homes made it clear she was going to start war with the Latina if she didn't bow down to her "awesome might," which was never going to happen. And bimbo one and two were all too eager to fulfill their queen bee's wishes. Any of them could have planted the drugs in her locker to get even with her. "Don't know, but I sure as hell am going to kick their ass when I find out."

"Language, young lady!" Ms. Tweety scolded. "You shouldn't be blaming others for your poor decisions."

_No, you can blame your shitty words for the fat lip I'm going to give you if you don't put a fucking sock in it._ Gabriella had to clench her fists to keep herself from fulfilling the deed.

Mr. Matsui cleared his throat to break the fragile silence. He stood up from his desk and said "Miss Montez, though I don't support what you've chosen as...an extracurricular activity, I understand where you're coming from. I mean, given your unfortunate background and what both you and your brother had to put up with, it's understandable that you're bound to follow certain, lack for a better word, pattern."

Is he serious? Is he actually_ fucking_ serious? Gabriella was flabbergasted. It was one of the few words she'd used, but right now, this moment practically was a flabber-fucking-gasting moment. This idiot actually thought she was dealing drugs in his school. And all because of her sad, little former life with her oh, so charming mother. She wondered if he took a strong hit of crack and his brain was in a drug-infected haze.

"Even if that were the case," Ms. Teeter objected. She didn't like someone actually believing there could be reasons behind Gabriella's attitude. Well, to most people it was attitude. To Gabriella, her "attitude" was pure awesomeness. "It still doesn't excuse her choices or her actions." Shifting her judging, dislike-glinted eyes from Gabriella to Javier, she made a horribly sour face, as if she bitten into something sourer than a lemon. "I knew this was a mistake. I never should have let you be her guardian. I mean, you can barely hand down your own home with that-that-_women and child_ _of yours_." She spat the words with such disdain, like they made her ill. "What on earth gave you the impression you can handle this-this-sassy, fresh-mouth, wild child?"

Alrighty then. Fuck trying to keep her temper down. The bitch was going to get smacked. "Listen here you nasal-toned, uptight, narrow-minded bitch-"

"_Enough!_" Mr. Matsui shouted. For a soft-spoken guy, he could really roar.

Ms. Teeter quickly retrieved from her bright-yellow pocketbook and opened a wide folder that Gabriella had a good feeling was hers. Flashing open to a page, she scribbled like mad, saying "You better believe this stunt will be going down in your permanent records, missy."

Her permanent records?! What the fucking hell? This couldn't be happening. This seriously couldn't be happening to her.

But watching the pen run across the pages and seeing the mixed fury and shame in her brother's eyes alerted Gabriella of the reality. This was reality. This was really happening to her. She turned to the principal, who was her last chance of not getting fucked.

"I'm being framed!" she pleaded. She was ashamed that she was, but you know what they say. Desperate times, desperate measures. "Think about it. I turn in the Mean Girls for harassing a freshman. Then the day they come back to school, I'm busted for drug possession. Open your eyes, Matsui. Really, really open them. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together."

The principal looked torn, unsure of which side he should take. The side that was obvious or the one that was possible. Biting his lip, he took a full two minutes to think. Sighing he glanced at everyone, starting with the security guards, Javier, Ms. Teeter, and finally Gabriella. He looked at her for the longest, as if he was searching for the answer. He sighed again, sounding exhausted. "Though you brought up a very interesting point, Miss Montez, it seems more so like a theory. And with theories, you need evidence to back them up. So while we investigate this case, you will be suspended until further notice."

Suspended! It wasn't as if she was new to the punishment. Back at LaGuardia, she received more than occasionally time off school punishment whenever the principal felt like detentions weren't enough for her. Those punishments were given because someone had a problem with her barely-there filter, straight-forwardness, her attitude, or her special tacit toward people that would say or start shit with her. It was a special tacit that usually involved her foot or fist, and that someone with a fresh bruise that was bound to last for a good week. But this time it was different. This time she was being punished for something she had absolutely no part in.

"Bullshit!" she shouted.

"Gabriella!" her brother warned, using that threatening voice that let her know she was only digging herself into a bigger hole. But she was too angry-correction-_furious_ to give a flying fuck.

"I _didn't_ do anything!" she yelled, emphasizing on _didn't_.

If things weren't already fucked up enough, the principal decided to make matters much worse. He looked at her with such pity, it was sickening. He was lucky she had a strong stomach or she would have puked on his desk. He was even luckier that were witnesses around, otherwise she would knock that sickening pity off his face. "I'm sorry, Miss Montez, but it's out of my hands."

_Out my hands, my fucking ass!_

* * *

><p>It was official. Today truly was a pure, shit-filled day.<p>

First she had to deal with the Mean Girls, McKessie, and Bolton. Then she was forced to actually to engage in a conversation with the idiot, a conversation that ended up with her getting kiss-_Ugh_. Remembering that kiss just made her stomach churned for the seventeenth time today. And to bring it all home, she had to deal with a worried Anita who got back from work early, a very pissed off Javier, and a very annoying Tweety in Javier's apartment.

_Dear God, just put me out of my misery_, Gabriella thought. At this point, death would be so much sweeter and nicer than having to be part of this very tense, awfully awkward meeting.

The whole time Tweety has been here, she had done nothing but act like a bitch. The way her face scrunched up the second she stepped into the apartment, taking in the cramp space and the bits of clutter that lay around, was horrible, as if she was scared that she'd be infected with some kind of disease if she touched anything. The dirty looks she gave them whenever they so much as talked let Gabriella know how much she "liked" them. The disapproving, very nasty looks she shot at Paco whenever he made a sound made Gabriella think of the many ways she'd torture this woman.

With shoving her face into a wastebasket full of dirty diapers being at the top of her list.

"I thought you said you would have things under control. You assured me that things would be under control," Ms. Teeter snarled at Javier. "But seeing the ways things are, clearly you don't have things under control."

"I did and I do," Javier tried to assure the woman, but Ms. Teeter didn't look convinced. "You have to understand that we're all dealing with certain changes in the family. Delicate circumstances if you will."

Making an unintelligent sound under her breath, Ms. Teeter's squinty eyes traveled over to Anita, who was feeding Paco mashed apples. Her eyes narrowed coldly when they landed on the baby, and turned degrees colder as they took notice of the slight bump that was seen through Anita's remarkably tight waitress uniform. "It seems like you're soon going to have another delicate circumstance threw into this circus you call a home."

The glare Anita gave the woman was hot enough to melt skin from the body. A hard glare that easily could have morphed into a nasty punch if Javier didn't quickly intervene. He took Paco into his arms and pulled her aside.

Gabriella knew she was in deep shit. She'd have to be a complete idiot not to realize that. She knew the last thing any of them wanted was hearing her infamous sassy mouth. But she wasn't one to just sit back and be silent when an outsider was making nasty comments about her family.

"Is that bitterness I hear or woe-some regret," Gabriella said, unfazed by the pair of the eyes that drew to her. "Seems like somebody's a little upset because she waited too long." She pouted; enjoying the growling vibrating through the woman's tightly clenched jaw. "What's matter, Tweety? Decide to be a good girl and wait till marriage? Thought your prince charming would deflower you on a rose-petal floor on your honeymoon night?" Shaking her head, Gabriella clicked her tongue distastefully. "And to think you're now at the age where you should be surrounded by your great grandchildren but you're all alone. It must really suck being an ancient virgin."

"Gabriella!" her brother exclaimed. He was close to the peak of his anger.

Anita was stunned into silence. Old Tweety looked like she wanted to strangle the girl with her bare hands. It was only Paco who had a sense of humor, chuckling at her comment.

"I should have known you'd be nothing but trouble," Ms. Teeter growled angrily, blood rushing to her pale face, foam practically smeared around her lips, looking like a rabid dog that was ready to bite. "Like mother, like daughter."

Okay…there was no way_ in hell_ she just went there.

"Listen here you judgmental, bitter as coffee, Big-Bird looking, piece of shit-"

"GABRIELLA!" It wasn't until she heard her name did she realize how close she was to her social worker. How tight her right fist was. How close that fist came to being used against the old bat's jaw.

"You must be pretty damn stupid or incredibly old and batty," Ignoring the angry flush that colored the woman, Gabriella marched on. "But if you fucking dare make another comparison between me and that slut, I'll rip that nasty tongue from your throat and-"

"GABRIELLA!" her brother was practically yelling. She bit her tongue hard, nearly drawing out blood, in order to keep down the nasty comment that was trying to come out. Silently, she gave Tweety a glare that was equally as nasty.

A very nasty, hard glare that was too similar to the one Javier was giving her. After glaring at his sister for a few moments longer, he turned over to Miss Teeter. "I know things look bad, Ma'am, but I can assure you I am on top of things."

"Given the current situation we were in, it doesn't look like you do have things under control, Mr. Montez," she remarked. "In fact it seems like quite the opposite. And things don't look just bad. They look _horrible_." Turning her judging eyes over to Gabriella, she said "Do you not realize how serious this is? Possessing illegal substances on school grounds? Selling them to your classmates?"

"For the last fucking last time those drugs aren't mine!" Gabriella snapped.

"Really? Because from where I'm standing-"

"I don't give a hot, wet monkey's fucking vagina where you stand!" Gabriella roared. "You're as blind as a goddamn bat anyway."

"Gabriella!" If Javier wasn't screaming before, he sure was now. Too bad she was too pissed off to give a fuck.

"All of you are goddamn blind and dumb as fuck if you actually think that I had anything to do with those crap some idiot decided to plant in my locker," Gabriella said. She looked hard into her social worker's squinty, grayish-blue eyes, hoping her words would get through her thick head. "Miss Teeter, you were assigned my case that night on October twentieth. You know what went down and the reasons that caused the incident to happen in the first place. So please in the name of all that's good will you think? Really, really think. Does it make any sense-any sense at all-for a daughter of a crack-head hooker to be experiencing or dealing crack herself? Does it?"

For a second, just a split second, Tweety looked like she was actually hearing her. Not only hearing her, but thinking. Actually using that brain of hers and thinking things through. In that split second, Gabriella felt a small bit of hope. Hope that was murdered in an instant as a dark, stubborn glaze hardened the woman's eyes, shutting out that possibility. She put on a face that was disgustedly sympathetic, most likely the same she used for every other orphan begging her to hear their side of the story. "Sometimes, Miss Montez, we try. We try so hard to avoid the very people we loathe and hurt us. But sometimes we realize a bit too late that we become those very same people."

Become those very same people. Meaning she was becoming more like Maria. That was two fucking Maria comparisons in one day.

Miss Teeter took Gabriella's silence as an invitation to continue speaking. She looked at the younger girl with such pity, as if she were some sort of beaten puppy. She actually had the nerve to touch her, placing her hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "I know it's hard to hear, but it is the truth. Sometimes, Miss Montez, with special cases kids can be more like their parents than they think. You know what they say? The apple doesn't fall far from the-"

Quick as a rattlesnake, Gabriella stuck the woman, nearly smacking her head right off her shoulders.

"_You fucking little bitch!_" Anita quickly stepped in, pulling Gabriella away from Miss Teeter before she could do more damage to the woman.

The fury that reddened Miss Teeter's face was almost as bright as the red handprint on her left cheek. "You can bet I'll have this written down in your record, missy!"

"And you can bet that I'll kick your ass to the next county if you-"

"Let me show you the door!" Javier announced loudly, directing Miss Teeter to the door, nodding his head to her threats of having the court review this case, possibly pressing charges, and filling out an extensive compliant of this visit.

"Wonderful to see you again, Miss Teeter. Always a pleasure." He practically shoved the woman out the door, locking the door. Slowly he turned around and the look he gave his sister was, in a word, fierce.

Anita wisely picked that moment to put Paco to sleep, leaving the two Montez siblings to deal with their issues.

The brother and sister were locked in a fierce glaring contest; their eyes narrowed and blazed neither sibling ready to back down.

Placing a hand to his face, Javier was the first to break, looking away and letting out a deep breath. When his eyes returned back to his sister's, the fury blazing in them didn't extinguish. It grew hotter. "What the_ fuck _did you do?"

"I didn't do shit-" Gabriella said.

"Don't give me that "'no shit'" bull-crap, Gabriella!" her brother all but yelled. "Seeing that you were called to the principal's office, the police made their wonderful appearance, and your oh, so charming social worker decided to pay a visit, I'd say you did a shitload"

"I told you I didn't do shit-" Her brother cut through her words.

"The hell you didn't fucking shit!" he shouted. "You actually slapped Miss Teeter. You actually slapped your fucking social worker. Do you not realize how much shit you brought upon yourself?"

"That snotty, know-it-all bitch deserved a hell lot more than a slap," Gabriella argued. Maybe she jumped the gun a bit too early, but she sure as hell didn't regret it. She was happy she slapped her. Her only regret was what it wasn't a punch. "Sitting there, talking shit about me, you, Anita, Paco, and the baby. Just because you wanna sit back and act quietly doesn't mean I will."

"Really?" A dark brow rose. His stare was incredulous. "Is that the same reason you're going to use to explain the facts drugs were found in your locker?"

Gabriella was ready to speak, to say that those gas fumes were finally getting to her brother's head. Then she was silenced by the horrible, disbelieving look in Javier's eyes that made her feel queasy, upsetting her stomach. That utterly shameful, disbelieving look that made her feel like she was suffering through a hangover and her stomach was readying to upchuck.

"How could you be so stupid? How in the name of God could you let yourself get mixed up in shit like-"

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!" she demanded. She wasn't pissed anymore. She was outraged. It was one thing for the shitheads in Albuquerque to think she was messing around with drugs. But Javier? Her own brother? The brother that read to her every night when she was little. The brother that made the holidays and birthdays a little bit brighter by getting her favorite Disney dolls. The brother who taught her how to read, taught her how to tie her shoes, and taught her how to defend herself.

But then again should she really be surprised? Javier was quick to jump to conclusions lately when it came to her. He was on her ass the first day of school. He practically gave himself a heart attack because she forgot to leave a note when she met Bolton for rehearsal. Why wouldn't he believe that his sister was doing drugs and making some money off it?

She had to wait for her brain, as well her stomach, to process the words. She pulled her shades back, revealing her dark eyes to Javier, looking him in the eye. "You really," she said. "actually believe that after everything you and me dealt with growing up, after that shit that went down in October-" She had to take in deep, slow breathes in order to calm herself down and continue. It was the only way she could move past the disturbing moments flashing through her head of that horrible night. "That after everything that bitch did, I'd do something like that? Is that what you honestly think?"

Javier didn't answer her. He instead looked at her, really looked at her. Looked long and deep into her eyes as if he was memorizing every feature into memory. As if there might be a chance that he could find a trace of the little Ella he raised in the unfamiliar young woman that stood in front of him.

She realized, with a sharp tug of her heart, it was the same way he looked when he walked into Madame's apartment. The first time he saw his little sister in almost eight years. She hated that look then as she did now.

"Javi?" she said softly, her voice suddenly tentative and closed to choked up. She took a step closer to him, but stopped as he held out his hand, stopping her.

"I…" He sighed, turning his head away. He ran a hand through his hair. "I…I-I want to believe you-"

"What!" Want? He _wanted_ to believe her. Wanting and believing weren't the same thing. They might as well be two different planets.

"Ella, I-" He stopped himself short, running a hand through his face, sighing deeply. "What do you expect me to do?"

What did she expect him to do? Oh my dear-was he serious? Was he actually serious? "What do I expect you to do?" she repeated. "I expect you to trust me. I expect you to defend your family when some bitch decides to talk shit. I expect you to have my fucking back. I expect you to believe your own goddamn sister when she's telling the truth."

"IF ONLY I COULD!" Javier screamed. Gabriella took a step back away from him; his words like a hot, searing fist squeezing her heart slowly. "I want to believe you. I want to so badly, Gabriella, but how can I?" Sighing again, he looked like he was the one with his back to the wall, defeated and tired. "How can I when I don't even know my own sister anymore?"

_Ka-boom_.

There it was. That was the breaking point, completing one of the most completely shit-filled days of her life. Those very words.

Words that cut through her heart like thousands of daggers, slicing it into pieces, causing it to painfully bleed out.

Words that caused her fury to burst from its peak.

"AND WHOSE FUCKING FAULT IS THAT?!" Gabriella screamed. She screamed so loudly that Paco was crying and there was banging from both sides of the wall.

"Would it kill you to lower your-"

"You wanna talk, Javi? Let's talk. Let's talk about the reason why there's so much tension between you and me. Let's talk about why you don't seem to know little Ella anymore. Let's talk about the fact that although we made plans on leaving that hell-hole together, you walked out on me. Let's talk about _you fucking leaving me!_"

This time Javier was the one that took a step back. He looked so stunned; it was as if he was slapped across the face.

_Weren't expecting that one, were you, fucker?_ Though the shock on her brother's face was refreshing from his anger, it was nowhere near as satisfying as she thought it would be. Nowhere near close.

"Ella," he said her name in a sad sigh, having some decency to look down.

"You know what's funny?" Gabriella asked him, her eyes burning with tears, a miserable smile spreading across her quivering lips. "It was bad enough that you left me. Breaking your promise to me was a real punch in the gut. But the real fucking kicker is how you didn't have the fucking balls to tell me goodbye. You just dropped me off at school and left right after that. You didn't even leave a fucking note, Javier!"

"Ella-"

"And during your eight-year hiatus, while you were enjoying your carefree life, I was rotting in hell. Getting the crap beaten me out of me on a daily basis, trying to keep a damn roof over our heads, and getting harassed-" She stopped herself short, feeling a sob rising up her windpipe, nearly choking her. She took a deep breath and forced herself to continue "Harassed and then some by Maria's scumbags, her asshole pimp, and Carlos. And all that time finding it so freaking funny that my dear brother couldn't take time away from his busy schedule to call his sister. Or write me a stinking letter explaining yourself."

"Ella, I-"

"_DON'T FUCKING CALL ME THAT!_" Gabriella screamed at the top of her lungs. She didn't feel like the emotionally-detached, calm and cool Montez that walked out the apartment this morning. She felt like an emotional-fueled volcano ready to explode.

Her walls were breaking down, getting smashed in by the memories that hit her hard like fists of steel. The memories, the broken promise, the jerk-offs, her mother-all of it was coming back, rushing to the surface, drowning her in its infinite depth.

_DO NOT CRY! _Yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling. She couldn't stop her lips from shaking. She couldn't stop her eyes from burning. She couldn't stop the tears from building up inside. She couldn't stop the lump that was growing in her throat, slowly cutting off her air circulation.

Gabriella looked up at her brother and was surprised by the tears that filled his eyes. He looked tortured, hurt. Pained as if her words were multiple slaps to his face.

Seeing that way infuriated her. He had no fucking right to look that way, much less feel it. She was one that had to find ways to sneak past the dragon lady whenever there was no place to hide. She was the one who resorted to leaving her money behind in her locker at the dance studio so Maria's greedy hands couldn't get it. She was the one that had to deal with the late-night creeps that would crawl through her locked door and try to have fun with Temptress' little girl.

She remembered that one incident that happened when she was only eleven. An incident that occurred shortly after Javier left. An incident that involved a passed out Maria, an unlocked door, and a drunken bastard who couldn't tell the difference between the two.

She remembered that night all too perfectly. A pair of rough, chapped lips suddenly attacking her face with his wet, sloppy kisses. Rough, clumsy hands holding her down as she struggled, running all over her body, touching her all over. Touching her in places where an eleven year old shouldn't be touched.

_Stop it!_ She commanded herself. She had to push images away. She had to push the blackness that clouded her vision. She had to push it all back before she really lost it.

She found herself laughing under her breath. It was a far cry from the usual warm, friendly laugh. It was cold and taunting. She laughed so hard that she had to, tears ran down her face.

"Ella?" He took a step forward. A step forward that soon became a step back when she lifted her head up and he was greeted by her sharp smile that matched the sharpness in her eyes.

"You have_ no_ idea, Javi," she said so sweetly with such much venom in her voice. "You really have no friggering idea what the hell I went through."

"Ella-" He put a hand to her shoulder, and that hand was nearly knocked right off his wrist by Gabriella's hard slap.

"You know what, Javi? Maria was right," Gabriella let out a breath of disbelieving, cold laughter as she ran a hand through her hair. "She was actually right for once in her life. You're just like your asshole father. Two sides of the same fucking coin."

She could tell by the malicious flare in that flashed in his eyes, she was crossing into dangerous territory. But she didn't care. She was going to cross them. "You're just as much as a worthless asshole as he was. After all we are Montezes, and we're known for never staying too long whenever the fun's over. I bet when Anita told you she was pregnant, the first thought that came to mind was much time do I have to escape. How quick can I ditch her and it?"

Javier took a step closer to her, his eyes fired with terrifying fury. "I suggest you shut that mouth of yours before someone does it for you."

"Or what?" Gabriella challenged. "What the fuck are you going to do? Smother me with brotherly love?"

"I'm warning you, Gabriella-"

"You know what? Maybe you had a better idea. Maybe you decided you weren't going to bail quickly this time. Maybe you thought she was a fine piece of ass you wanted to fuck some more. And while you fucked her, you can make her think that you honestly care about her. That you care and will always be there for her."

"If you don't shut your mouth in the next five seconds-"

"No, you thought the perfect time to ditch her was after she gave birth. What's the perfect time to ditch her after she brings your kid into the world and you're long gone? That would be such a fucking kick-"

Before she finished the sentence, her head whipped to the other side, her cheek throbbing in pain and her glasses falling to the ground.

In that moment, it was as if she were caught in a vacuum, where everything was both loud and quiet at the same time. She could hear her heart beating loudly beneath her chest in a slow rhythm. She could hear her breathing, slow and shallow. She could hear Anita yelling Javier's name, but she sounded so far away, as if she were on the phone and the signal was faint.

In that moment, all she saw was her brother. Her brother holding her tight and promising her that everything will work out. Her brother playing dolls with her, using his special Disney voice for the boys. Her brother caring for her. Her brother protecting her. Her brother….slapping her.

"Gabriella? Gabriella?" Slowly her tear-blurred eyes looked up from her fallen glasses to her brother, who looked stunned by what he had just done. Shocked that he could do such a thing. "Gabriella, I didn't mean-"

"I think you did enough, Javi." Anita quickly pushed him back. She looked just as shocked as Javier felt. She turned back to Gabriella, a concerned look in her eyes, worrying about her reaction.

Gabriella felt like saying to the girl there was no need for her to worry. She didn't feel anything. She felt so far away and numb, as if the emotions that were moments ago were smacked out of her by Javier's slap.

"Gabriella, I didn't mean," her brother begged. "I didn't mean it. I was angry. You know I'd never do anything like that-"

With an unreadable expression on her face, her eyes blank yet somehow focused, she said only three words to her "_I hate you!_"

She spoke the words so softly, it was inaudible. Yet each one was packed with such sharp, fiery venom. Her brother flinched as if he was punched in the gut, and Gabriella took that as her cue to fled, ignoring the bastard calling her name and slamming her door hard. With her back against the wall, she took in quick, staggering breaths, trying to herself together.

_Don't cry_, she told herself. _Don't cry_.

The more she repeated the chant, the more her numb body slide down against the door. The more her body slide, the more walls crumbled.

She tried to keep herself together. She tried not to think. She tried not to make herself weak, but it was too much. Bolton beating down her walls. Making her recall memories she'd rather forget. Confusing her with that stupid, fucking kiss that unraveled her. An asshole planting drugs in her locker. Getting suspended from school. Having not just one but two comparisons to that she-devil whore who made her life a living, breathing hell. Her brother refusing to believe her. Her brother _slapping_ her.

_Don't_….before she could finish the thought, a hot tear leaked from her eyes and ran down her cheek. A hot, salty tear that was soon followed by another, and another. And another. Until her eyes were gushing tears and she was drowning in them.

_Cry_.

The last remaining piece of her wall crumbled like a sandcastle getting washed away. She had no protection, no way to fend off the demons that came out to play.

So she did the one thing she hadn't done in a long time.

She brought her knees up, wrapped her legs around them, and wept. Not cry, not sob. But wept, feeling so small and helpless.

**HEY GUYS SORRY IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE UPDATED. COLLEGE HAS BEEN DRIVING ME UP THE WALL. BUT YOU GUYS ARE SUCH AWESOME READERS THAT I DECIDED TO GIVE YOU A CHRISTMAS TREAT. FORGIVE ME THOUGH IF IT WASN'T OVERLY JOLLY. BUT WHEN IT COMES TO GABRIELLA, WE CAN'T ALWAYS EXPECT SUCH A THING.**

**I WISH EVERY ONE OF YOU A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS ;D  
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	21. Chapter 21

**ET Chapter 21: Dead-Numbing, Stress-Relieving **

"I _cannot _believe you!" Anita huffed, her thick accent laced with anger. "How could you do that? _¿Cómo puedes golpear a tu propia hermana? ¿Por qué? ¿Por qué harías algo así?_"

"Anita," Javier drawled her name in a long, exhausted sigh. "You know I didn't mean it. It-it was an accident."

"Oh right," she snorted. Even in her room, buried underneath her blankets and covers, Gabriella could hear the sharp sarcasm rolling off her tongue. Then again a person would have to be deaf to miss it. "You just happened to have lifted your hand up. Your hand then started to have a mind of its own and decided to slap Gabriella. Or wait," she corrected herself. "You didn't slap her. You smacked her. _¡Maldita la golpeó en la cara!_"

"Did you not hear all the shit she was saying about us? About Paco? About the baby? And what she thinks I'm going to do to you after the baby's born?"

Anita didn't immediately answer, and the moments of silence twisted Gabriella's gut painfully as if it were grabbed by a strong hand. She felt so guilty, and she hated it so much. Gabriella rarely felt guilty because feeling guilty meant regretting, and she didn't have time for regretting. But curled on in her bed, hearing them fighting, listening to silence that followed after Javier's question guilt was clawing its way through her stomach.

"I did," she admitted after what felt like an hour later. Her stomach twisted more as Gabriella heard the sad tone in Anita's voice. "And it broke my heart," Well, now that her stomach was twisted up like a pretzel, guilt was moving up to her scattered heart. Anita sounded almost choked up. "But what hurt even more was realizing that she wasn't completely wrong. For thinking that way, at least."

"_Anita, por el amor de Dios_," Javier said. "Come on-"

"You come on!" she snapped.

The two had been at it for almost three hours now, yelling in a mix of angry Spanish and English, attempting but failing to keep their voices down.

"_Javier, déjame preguntarte esto. ¿Puedes honestamente culpar por pensar de esa manera? Pues bien, ¿verdad?_" Anita said. "Can you really blame Gabriella for believing that? You may not want to face the facts, but they are there. You left her. You left her and made no attempt to explain yourself."

Her brother made no comment. Anyone left would have flustered angrily and tossed aside the accusations. But Anita wasn't making accusations. She was telling the truth. The cold, hard truth Javier couldn't deny.

"Why?" Anita asked. Actually she wasn't asking; she was demanding. "Why did you leave her there? Did you not love her-"

"_Por supuesto amaba__!_" Javier defensively jumped in, his tone angry and hard. "I did love her, Anita. She was one the few things-correction one of the only things I actually gave a damn about." He sighed slowly, as if he were trying to release all the anger from his body. "All I wanted to was to get my baby sister out of that hell."

As much as she'd love to ignore it, Gabriella couldn't help noticing how remarkably softer his voice became after that sigh. It sounded as if, though, he was talking to himself than Anita. And she couldn't help but notice how he sounded so sad, as if he was speaking of his regret.

Anita must have had noticed the change, too, because she started to speak softly. "If that's case, if she really did mean a lot to you, then why did you leave her?"

Gabriella was ready to drown the conversation out with music till the question that had been on her mind for the last eight years was spoken out loud. With her heart heart pounding loudly, her body still as a statue, her ears waited to hear the well-deserved answer.

"It's complicated." Her brother said.

"Then uncomplicated it," Anita fired back. "Why did you leave her, Javier?"

"Because I-" Javier cut himself off, sighing. Gabriella could picture him running a hand through his face, thinking of a way to solve the puzzle he was in. "Because I honestly thought it was the best thing for her."

The answer received two very different reactions.

From Anita, it caused her temper, her dangerously-explosive temper that nearly rivaled Gabriella's, to boil over. Her dangerous temper that was scorning mad and unleashing a string of fiery Spanish words from her mouth.

From Gabriella, there was no anger pouring out. No anger, no fury, not even sadness. Instead, all there was inside her was complete numbness. A numbness that was the final dagger, burning with ice-cold flames, that stabbed and burnt what was else of her cold, dead, shattered heart.

So that was why Javier left her. Because he thought it was the best thing for her.

All these years Gabriella came up with millions of possibilities to explain her brother's disappearance. When she was younger with bits of naïve innocence still in her, she thought he was simply giving her time to get her absolute must-haves together. That he was trying to find the right place for them to live in, a place that would finally be home. As she got older, the list of possibilities narrowed down into more realistic scenarios. He finally decided to put that Einstein brain to work and went to college. He joined the army. He was dealing with a girl who was knocked up by his bad seed.

Then a thought came to Gabriella's head when she was fifteen, curled up in her bed, her bruised body trying to recover from Maria's late-night beatings, the throbbing pain reminding her that she was still alive and in hell.

He was dead.

It had to be it, right. She hadn't seen or heard a word from her brother in years. And it was all because he wasn't around anymore. It had to the answer. It just had to be.

Because there was no way Javier would actually leave her and not come back.

But now, finally hearing his real reason for bailing on her, Gabriella wished that the bastard was dead.

Throughout the rest of the day into the late night, Anita and the bastard tried to get to come out from her room. They tried with apologizes, most coming from bastard. They tried with pleading, then food. They were so desperate; they used the baby as a last resort.

"Gabi?" Paco banged against the door softly with his little hands. "Gabi?"

Hearing his sweet, little voice brought tears to her eyes that burned like acid as they rolled down her cheeks. Paco was sweet, so innocent, just like she and Javier were before it was beaten out of them. She sometimes wondered how long his innocence would last. She often prayed that it would last long.

She wanted to come out. She wanted to devour the delicious _Chalupas_ Anita cooking in the kitchen. Most of all, she wanted to hug her precious one long and tight. But her numb body was glued to the bed, stiff as a corpse.

Around twelve thirty, her brother stopped by her door before he headed off to bed. She knew it was him by the long silence that followed after the soft knock.

"El-I mean Gabriella," He let out a long, big sigh, the kind that came from deep within that made the body limp and tired when it was released. "I'm sorry. About everything. I know it's not enough to…." He sighed again. "I screwed up. I know that. I really did screw up. But I love you, Ella. I love you. Never doubt that or forget it."

Around one, the apartment was quiet. It was the perfect time to move.

Quickly Gabriella got out of bed, untangling herself from the blanket cocoon. Feeling the chilled air slipping through her cracked window, she thought it was best to change. She exchanged the outfit she wore to school for a simple black sweatshirt and her boot-legged faded jeans. After grabbing her keys and deliberately leaving her phone behind, she left the apartment and ran over to the apartment building across the street.

She thanked her lucky stars someone else-a late-night party-girl-was leaving the exact moment she was coming over, sparing her of using the buzzer.

She made her way up to the fourth floor, room 447, and knocked on the door firmly till she heard movement inside.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Damn." In exactly ten seconds, the door flung open and her best friend emerged, dressed in a white wife-beater and dark gray boxers.

"Every heard of a sleeping, buddy? Because that was what I was doing before-" It took several blinks and three eye-rubs for his vision to focus. He seemed surprised to see Gabriella at his door so late. "Gabs? What are you doing-"

Gabriella grabbed Rob by his shirt and pulled him into a hot, hungry kiss that consumed his words. For a moment Rob was frozen, caught off guard by sudden display of affection, until Gabriella opened her mouth a bit more. Then he was all game, getting into the kiss, his tongue tangoing with hers.

Soon the temperature in the place escalated to high, the kisses hotter and rougher, their tongue battle fiercer and wetter, the sexual tension was close to explosive.

Gabriella kissed Rob like she's never kissed another: desperately, urgently, and deeply. As if he was food and she was starving. As if he was oxygen and her lungs needed air. As if he was light and she needed a way out of the darkness.

But she needed more. She needed a way out of the darkness. She needed a way to shake the sick numbness, the memories, and the demons.

Thankfully Rob took action. Without breaking the lock of their lips, he lifted Gabriella. After she wrapped her legs around his torso and her arms around his neck, he carried her inside, closing the door with his foot.

They spent a few minutes making out against the door, their hands stripping each other of their shirts, their lips and tongue bruising and demanding. When her lungs were dying from lack of oxygen, Gabriella pulled away for a bit, needing to catch her breath. Rob took her lack of lips as an opportunity to pay attention to her neck. As he kissed her neck, Gabriella pushed down his boxers and pulled out the condom from her pants' pocket.

"Bed?" Rob suggested. His breath was hot against her neck.

Gabriella shook her head and ripped the condom open with her teeth. She moaned as Rob kissed her sweet spot, making her toes curl up as his tongue brushed against her skin. "Here's fine."

Rob grabbed the condom and brought his lips back to hers. They no longer seemed to be kissing. They were devouring each other, tongues locked in a brutal battle of dominance, lips and teeth clashing.

She was so lost in the hurricane barricade of lustful kisses; it took her awhile to realize her back was pressed against the door. It took her even longer to realize that she was fully nude, her breasts freed her from her bra and hanging, her panties dropped to the ground. She could hear Rob placing on the condom while they were kissing. But before she could take in another breath, he charged in at full speed, deeply entering into her.

"Fuck!" she gasped, instantly in love with the roughness. She tightened her grip around him, needing more.

"Jesus." He grunted. He lifted Gabriella up, pulling her closer to him. She wrapped her legs around him, giving him better access, which he wasted no time pursuing, thrusting fast and deep.

"Harder!" she demanded, moaning loudly as her demands were met. "Harder!"

In and out, in and out he went, attacking her at thrust. Gabriella held onto him tight as she returned his thrusts with hard ones of her own.

"You like that?" Rob teased. He could feel Gabriella's body trembling from the orgasms that were awakening inside of her.

She kissed him hungrily, biting his bottom lip hard. "I-" she moaned as a wave of pleasure washed over her. Another orgasm tantalizing her body. "Fucking love it."

Every thrust, every kiss, every touch was like a lever that plucked her from the demon's pit, lifting her toward the clear, safe surface. Pulling her higher and higher.

"Harder!" she practically screamed. He was in so fucking deep; she could feel his dick tearing up her vagina.

"_So-fucking-tight!_" Rob growled in between each groan. He grunted loudly as he felt Gabriella's walls tightening up around him. His body was shaking giddily in anticipation. "Fuck! I'm gonna cum!"

"Then catch up with me," Gabriella challenged. "Because I'm about to burst."

They pounded against each other, sweat dripping from their bodies, slick-damp skin slapping against slick-damp skin, nails clawing at skin until their peaks were reached and their climaxes exploded into what felt like a dozen, exhilarating sequences.

Gabriella bit hard on Rob's shoulder, trying to take on the greatly masses of pleasure that rocked her body in an endless cycle. The pleasure was so much, so good, she couldn't hold in it. She threw her head back and screamed out loud, feeling like a star shooting through the star.

She never felt so free. So safe.

Later on, Gabriella rolled off a panting Rob and onto the left side of the bed, panting heavily herself. She felt as if she just completed two marathons and a Madame Gorksi's body-killing rehearsal.

"That was _wow_." Rob said with a grin on his face.

Gabriella turned her head over to him, a smirk hanging on the right corner of her mouth. "I know."

A night with Rob, four rounds of great sex, along with some nice make-out sessions, bottles of Heineken, and fresh pot Rob picked up from Tim's dorm was just what Gabriella needed. It as if the sex, kisses, liquor, and weed, created a safe, warm cocoon around her. One that protected her as well as her walls, closing off the demons that tried to make their way through.

She couldn't remember the last time she felt so detached from her problems. The last time she felt so warm. But then again, her detached warmness could be pointed to the beer and weed.

Speaking of which…

"Pass me the bong." Gabriella held out her hand.

Rob rolled his eyes, grumbling about being treated like a servant in his own house, but nevertheless handed her the bong and his lighter.

Taking in a deep breath, Gabriella closed her eyes, leaned into the mouthpiece, and deeply inhaled.

In 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…

A beautiful, soft sensation unfolded in her brain, spreading throughout her head, then traveling down her body until everything was in a complete, dream-like haze. Sighing in pleasure, Gabriella leaned back on the pillow, feeling as content as a cat after a long nap.

She smiled at Rob, purring "God bless pot."

"Ahem to that." Rob agreed, taking some for himself. "Good Lord, bless the sweetness that is marijuana. And great sex."

Snaking his around Gabriella's shoulders, he gave her a charming smile. "And if you're ever in any physical need or need a sex charge, please don't hesitate to call Dr. Sex. I'm always available for my patients."

Dr. Sex? What a fucking nut. Gabriella laughed at her friend, shaking him away. Unfazed, Rob swung out his leg, sat up, and stretched. He then walked over to his small kitchen, not even bothering to throw some clothes on his nude body.

"That's funny," Gabriella commented. "Because when I came over here for a house visit, Dr. Sex seemed more like Dr. Crabby."

With his head buried in the fridge, body hunched over, awarding Gabriella a full view of his butt, Rob waved a dismissive hand. "Even Dr. Sex needs beauty sleep," He turned over to give Gabriella a bright smile that would beat a beauty's queen, running his finger over his face. "How else do think I maintain such a beautiful face?"

Wow. Someone definitely was in love with himself. Gabriella took another hit from the bang, titling her head back to release a cloud of thick smoke. She cocked her head, studying Rob. "Hate to break it to you, Robbie, but," She shrugged her shoulders. "Seeing that your face rivals that of Dorian Gray's portrait, I think you could use some more beauty sleep. Like a good, thousand-year worth."

Rob gave her such a nasty scowl, it was comical. Gabriella did little to contain her chuckles, lying back in the bed as she laughed loudly. Calling her a smartass under his breath, Rob rolled his eyes before going back to the fridge. "Want a beer?"

"Please." Three bottles of Heineken and three shots of Jack, she still wasn't drunk yet. Very tipsy? Yes. Drunk? No. And she wanted to be drunk, so drunk that she couldn't remember today. So damn drunk till she couldn't remember the awful meeting that went down today with her social worker. So damn drunk till she couldn't recall the surprisingly, incredible softness that was Pup's lips.

Dear Jesus, the fact she actually still remembered that proved that she wasn't drunk.

Gabriella took in a deep breath of the bong, feeling her troubling thoughts getting pushed to side by the smoke. While she was inhaling, Rob was still looking through his fridge. "Want food to go with that? I got a full box of Papa Gino's pizza, two bacon and egg sandwiches from Mario's, and half a sweet onion chicken teriyaki from Subway."

Gabriella's stomach answered for her, practically screaming tortured wails.

"Okay," Rob drawled after a long moment. "I'll take that city earthquake as a yes to all three."

"Fuck you."

"Maybe after our late night snack."

Rolling her eyes, Gabriella took another hit of the bong. Rob heated the pizza in the microwave, ripping the slices apart from the large pie and setting them all on a plate. While they were heating up, he brought over the sandwiches and a six pack of Budweiser.

"Hope these suits to your liking, Madame." he teased.

"Why, actually it does." she repiled. She grinned at the sight of the food. The last thing she had to eat for today was a ham sandwich she got from the school's cafeteria, and that was at noon. She brought the sweet onion-chicken sub to her face and inhaled half of it.

"Damn." Rob remarked on her monstrous bite.

"Yes, Rob, girls can be just as ravenous as guys. Alert the media." Gabriella socked him on the shoulder. She finished off the sandwich in three bites.

Like the wise-ass he was, Rob smirked. Thankfully, the timer going off from the microwave silenced the wise-ass comment she knew he was ready to make. A good thing, too, otherwise she would have socked him again, but at a different area. When he came back with the pizza, he set the hot plate between them and picked up his beer, twisting off the cap and raising it high. "Cheers."

Gabriella cocked a questioning eyebrow. "To what?"

"To hungry stomachs, junk food, strong pot, cold beer, and great sex."

Though it was a ridiculous proposal, Gabriella tapped her bottle against Rob's. "Cheers."

"Bottoms up." In union, the two titled back their heads and swallowed down more than half the bottle.

Rob had little of the food, which Gabriella took as an invitation to help herself of the snack buffet. And helping herself, she did, chomping down both the breakfast sandwiches and eating half the pizza.

"Not that I'm complaining or anything," he said. "But is there a particular reason for this visit?"

A crack chipped at the side of her warm cocoon, allowing the cold darkness to seep through it. Gabriella shoved a whole slice of pepperoni pizza in her mouth, chewing slowly to delay time. Issue was Rob had the patience of a saint, so she knew her trick was unsuccessful.

Rolling her eyes in annoyance, she shrugged "Maybe I needed a fill."

Rob didn't seem to buy that one, but, hell, it was his problem. She helped herself to another slice, washing down with another beer.

Rob studied Gabriella closely. There was something off with her. He could feel it. It was the way she stubbornly kept her eyes straight ahead as she ate. The way her body stiffen for a moment before she forced herself to relax. There was also the defiant drop-it tone she had in her voice that was a dead giveaway.

He thought back for a moment about whether or not he should ask questions. Ordinarily, he wasn't one for pushing, especially when it came to the feisty Gabriella who had no problems pushing back when pushed. But something was wrong. The look she had in her eyes that she tried to push away with the feline smile on her lips set an uneasy feeling in his stomach. It was almost the exact same look she had in her eyes when she came over to his apartment in November, troubled by the business going on from across the street. She was upset then as she was now. And he knew he wouldn't be a good friend if he didn't ask.

"Are you sure that's all?"

"Just all that matters." Her eyes snapped back to his. The drop-it-or-things-will-get-real-ugly tone hanging heavily in her voice. "Okay?"

"Okay?" he shrugged.

"Good." she smirked.

She rewarded his obedience with a kiss. It was a kiss that was a meant to be brief, but Rob grabbed her before she could pull back. Entangling his hand in her black hair, he played with her bottom lip, licking and nibbling it playfully, signaling a need for entrance. Giving in with a giggle, Gabriella responded to his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Isn't this better than asking stupid questions?" Gabriella bit his bottom lip hard.

Rob moaned, pulling Gabriella's body over his. Neither of them paid attention to the food that was knocked to the floor.

"I ask because I care." Rob commented against her lips.

Gabriella pulled back, a feline smile spreading across her face. Rob was propped up in second, protests on the tip of his tongue, ready to fire. Then he was brought back down in a second by the soft touch of Gabriella's hand brushing against his excited friend. He closed his eyes and cried out.

Gabriella looked down at Rob's dick that was practically growing before her eyes, then looked up at him. His eyes were shut tight. His mouth agape, releasing tormented groan after tormented groan. She stroked his dick back and forth in slow motion, raising the volume of his moans that went from soft to loud cries. She smirked, amused. Still stroking, she said "I can think of more, interesting ways to show me how much you care."

Rob looked up, a predatory gleam in his eye. Gabriella's smirk widened to a full, alluring smile. Before long, she found herself lying underneath Rob, eyes shut tight and a pleased smile splashed across her lips as he entered her and started his lap.

"That's more like it." she moaned.

**And there you have it, my readers. Chapter 21 of ET. Hope it was to your liking. Now we all know the reason for Javier's abandoment and see once again how Gabriella handles dealing with problems. **

**Thanks again for the reviewing, favoriting, alerting, and, of course, the reading. You guys are always on my mind when I write and I try to make each chapter as good as it can be. Once again if you have any ideas for what should happen next, tell me. I'm always up for ideas. Also, is there a reader who happens to be really good in Spanish? **


	22. Chapter 22

**ET Chapter 22: Sherlock Pup on the case**

If someone had told him that his meeting with Gabriella wasn't going to go exactly as planned, he really wouldn't be surprised. He had the memory of stuffed crabs going down his throat to prove it.

If someone had told him that he got sucker-punched by her, then he really wouldn't be surprised. Somehow his mouth seemed fixated on saying stupid shit to Gabriella and get him hurt.

If someone had told him that he actually would kiss Gabriella-like real kissing on the lips-then…

Then…

He couldn't even finish his thought.

Truth be told the thought never occurred to Troy because it fell within the same concept as Kim Kardashian converting to nunnery, Ms. Darbus trading in her love for the theater for Sunday Football, or Jason winning a Noble Prize in Science.

Impossible. Far-fetched. Like no way in friggering hell, so let's not even go there.

Yet somehow it happened. It actually happened. And it took a hard punch to the right jaw for him to realize that he wasn't dreaming. That what he knew was the impossible was actually possible.

He looked out toward the school's backyard, at the large track field, where the track team was running laps, then glanced over at the football field, where the cheerleaders clad in sport bras and shorts were practicing yet another routine. His eyes were fixed on the activity going around yet he wasn't really seeing them. His mind was too far away to focus on them.

His mind was too far away to focus on anything except that-that-that kiss with Gabriella.

Tentatively Troy brushed his fingers against his lips, shivering as he recalled a pair of soft lips that were on his. A pair of soft lips that were still beneath his. A pair of soft lips that were the caused of the fire that ignited in him, completely paralyzing his system.

He hadn't meant to kiss Gabriella. Sure, he thought about. Once or twice-every ten seconds of the day but that didn't mean it was part of his plan when he forced her to come up to the roof. It was never his intention, just as it was never his intention to make her cry.

Guilt clawed its way through him, weighting down heavily on his heart as he recalled the stream of tears that fell from Gabriella's eyes like rain. She looked so broken, so vulnerable. It was a sight he never thought he saw, one that shocked him just as much as the kiss. He honestly thought that she wasn't capable of producing tear ducts.

It wasn't like he thought she was heartless or anything. Sure, Gabriella on more than one occasion had given him (along with every person near and far) the impression that she wasn't the warmest person. There were times when the freezing weather outside seemed more welcoming than her. She seemed bottled up in a way. Distance. She was one who was very expressive with certain emotions she tolerated while she locked away those she did mind, keeping them under heavy lock and key.

_Emotions YOU forced her to erupt like some sort long, overdue PMS volcano_ yelled his logic side that seemed to be on the dark side.

_Nice job, Bolton_, taunted the evil side. _Cause girl to cry, try to kiss away the tears, and get punched by said crying girl. If you weren't on Montez's hit list before, I'd say you shot yourself right to the top. Congrads!_

"Shut up!" Troy cried out loud. His outburst was so loud, it echoed throughout the garden, reaching down to the fields, where more than ten of his classmates paused and looked up at his direction. Quickly he dodged down, squatting against the wall.

His evil side that was starting to sound more like the devil snickered. _Beautiful. Just beautiful_, he laughed. If evil side were an actually person, he'd be the evil twin brother. Troy could picture him wiping away a tear and clapping to his humiliation. _Before you were known as the son of the legendary, Mr. Popularity Jack Bolton and kid brother of the legendary, Mr. Perfection Michael Bolton. Now you'll be known as Troy Bolton, the sixth sense jock who talks to the voices inside his little, paranoid head. _

"Shut. Up." Troy snarled.

_I can already see that wonderful year book editorial made in your honor, Bolton. _

Dear God. Troy groaned, smacking his forehead with both hands, wanting nothing more but to be out of his misery.

_Did you really need to do that to her?_ His logic side asked. _I understand you were trying to make a point, but you really went too far with her. _

_No shit, _remarked quite unhelpfully his evil side. _He broke her. _

_I know! _Troy wanted to yell out, but he couldn't risk that. If word were to get around Troy Bolton was seen talking-correction: yelling-to himself but once, but twice in one day, his dad would crucify him. He sighed, banging his head softly against the stone wall. _I know._

He didn't mean to make Gabriella so upset. He just wanted to make a point. He wanted to prove that they were more alike than she thought. That he saw her a bit more clearly than other. That he saw through her thick walls.

Then he saw the look in her eyes. It was a hooded, lost in time glazed look he knew entered his eyes whenever memory struck him, trapping him in a block hole.

His words got through to her. They hit her right in the gut, which Troy wanted but soon regretted when he saw the shattered expression in her eyes. When he saw tears that she had been trying to hold in flow so easily and rapidly like there were no tomorrow. When he saw her walls crumble before him, revealing the Gabriella others had never seen.

His logic side was right; he did push her. He pushed her and felt like such an idiot. He hated it whenever he was forced to remember Mike or recall things linked to his memory. It was like he was being thrown into the snake pit. Not even snakes-more so killer fanged-tooth vipers.

Yet he had done the same thing to Gabriella. He pretty much carried her over to the pit and dangled her over it, letting the vipers have all-you-can-eat-fear-buffet.

_Once again well done, Romeo _taunted his evil side.

"Shut up." Troy muttered half-heartedly.

When he saw how hurt she was, he knew he had to do something. Anything.

And so, lost in the trance of haunted but beautiful brown, he allowed his heart to take over logic, to unlock everything he kept locked up regarding her such as how he felt. He was powerless to stop himself from confessing how he couldn't stop thinking about her, how she was constantly flowing around his mind. Given any other day, he'd happily get mauled by his dad than to confess his feelings. He'd be dead, but at least the cause of death wouldn't be humiliation.

But the second he looked into those eyes, he was a goner. And like many goners before him, he had done the deed that sealed his fate.

He kissed her.

Troy shivered as he remembered the softness of Gabriella's lips and the heat that flooded his body as their lips met. In the trashy romances his mom and Sharpay were addicted to, the writers of those books would describe that first kiss's heat as a spark. The great, magical spark that tingled in the couple's bodies, the sweet warmth confirming what they've been thinking all along: that they were made for one another.

Troy thought it was a butt-load of crap. A spark? He scoffed. The heat he felt when he kissed Gabriella, the great nearly-consuming heat was too great to be a simple, little spark. For God's sake, the way his heart stopped it was like he was stuck by lightening. It was too hot, too-dare he say it-wow to be considered a kiss. And as for the heat convincing him that Gabriella was his soul mate or something, Troy didn't want to go there. It was all too much to think about.

He sighed again. He didn't know what to make of the kiss. It definitely knocked the seven minutes he had with Heather Homes out the water. It definitely was more than what he dreamt it would be like. It, just as much good things in life, ended too soon.

They had a moment. If there was anything Troy was surer about, it was the fact that in that spilt second they had a genuine moment. It was a moment that he completely ruined by pushing her too far and sealing the traumatic deal with a kiss.

Not only did he help bring back her walls, thickening them with pure steel with his utter stupidity. He also got Gabriella to pretty much hate his guts.

_Montez with a score of a million and one. Pup with zilch, _announced his game show host of an evil side.

"Shut up already!"

He was fifteen minutes late to Creative Literature, thanks to his dad who decided to call him into his office to announce that the team's practice would extend to five hours instead of the usual three. Everyone watched his ungrateful entrance to the class. All except for Gabriella who had her head down, focusing on the entries of her journal. She didn't look up once as he slowly made his way over to his desk, keeping her eyes on the book, her head down.

Her head did go up, however, when Ms. Bay and the security guards showed up and her name was called into the principal's office.

He could tell by her high arched brow she was taken by her summon to Matsui's office. But she kept her cool, closing her book and stuffing her belongings into a bag, then following-actually leading-them out.

By lunch time rolled out, word had gotten out: Gabriella Montez was busted for drug possession, facing a very lengthy suspicion but also criminal charges.

"I knew it. I knew it!" Taylor decreed. "I knew that girl was nothing but trouble."

You'd think that with his group of friends consisting of former victims of cruel gossip that his table would be immune to the drug-bust buzz going around East High. Sadly, that was not the case. The second Sharpay and Taylor joined them with their plates of Greek salad, inputs and theories were being thrown around about the scandal.

"Get this," Jason said "I heard from Rex Shells that she's the candy-woman of pills. Her locker was pretty much a pharmacy."

Troy stuffed his face with the turkey and Swiss sandwich he packed with mayo and lettuces, trying to shove in the comment he could feel trying to make his way up. He hated the way everyone, including his friends, were talking about Gabriella as if she were a criminal mastermind or something.

"Apparently she was doing much more than pills," Dear Jesus, he was about to lose it. They dragged innocent Kelsi over to the dark side. "I heard from Arthur, who heard from Minnie, that there were more than just pills. Minnie was at the principal's office around the same time Gabriella was called in, and took a peek inside. She saw a plastic bag Mr. Matsui pulled from his desk. There were pills, pot, and a bag of white powder." Kelsi leaned forward, lowering her voice to a soft whisper. Several of his friends leaned forward. "Cocaine."

Mouths dropped so low, they nearly hit the table. Heads shook their heads slowly in a disappointing manner. A pair of baby blues narrowed coldly.

The owner of the baby blues couldn't stand to hear anymore of this bullshit.

"Dang," Zeke remarked. "I knew the chick was badass, but she seriously is hardcore."

"Yeah," Jason nodded, agreeing "She puts the _core _in hardcore."

In unison the group groaned as they rolled their eyes and shook their heads, groaning.

Zeke lightly patted his friend's shoulder, offering them a small smile "How about we leave the two-word emphasize to me, buddy?"

Better yet, how about they dropped the topic altogether and move onto a new one? Troy was all for that proposal. Even if it meant he had to put up with the Team Peeta vs. Team Gale debate.

"But he does have a point," Taylor commented, not wanting to let the conversation die. Troy stared down at his hands that were balled into tight fists. He knew if he looked up, his expression would give him away. "I knew that girl was trouble-"

"_I knew you were trouble when you walked in," _Jason belted out. Zeke and Chad rolled their eyes in unison while the girls, with the expectation of Taylor, and Ryan sang along with him. "_Shame on me now/flew me to places I'd never been. Oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble."_

_Oh brother,_ Troy thought, rolling his eyes.

Taylor looked equally un-amused, possibly even more. "Yes, yes, yes. We're blown that the writing style that is Taylor Swift," Jason looked like he was about to say something. Whatever it was, it was instantly shut down by the hardness in Taylor's eyes. "But let me remind you that I'm the one who called that one while you guys and everyone else were gawking at her. Its people like that girl who does nothing but ruin things and all those around her. People like that girl who care for no one but themselves-"

"_That girl_ is named Gabriella and she happens to be very nice!"

Those words were meant to be a thought vibrating in his head. But he hated the way how Taylor was talking about Gabriella, so they slipped out, coming out hard and sharp. His friends stared at him, jaws-dropped, surprised. Particularly Taylor, who knew the target that his sharpness was directed towards.

"Troy," Chad started, but Troy stopped him with a shake of his head.

Without a word, Troy grabbed his half-eaten lunch and left the table.

For the rest of the week, normalcy was the theme it seemed in his life. He woke up at five on the dot to do training sessions with his father. For two hours each morning he pushed his body beyond its limit, ignoring the aches that cut him like knives and only focusing on getting though them. In classes, he dove right into the sea of assignments, writing down notes, typing up papers, trying but miserably failing to understand the evil that was Calculus. In after-school practices, he worked hard on basketball, pushing his body hard, biting his lip whenever his dad yelled or threw the ball in his gut because of a mistake, taking his plum-bruised body to the locker room when it was over.

It was normal. The way his day was before. Familiar. And he hated it.

Call it cliché or him being dramatic, because before he loved the familiarity of his day. He loved everything being simple. He loved everything being predictable. Then his love for normalcy turned south at the arrival of a dark, tempting angel who turned his world upside down. Now that she was gone, familiarity was just empty.

Though he tried to ignore the emptiness, it was hard to. He was reminded of it when he walked into Ms. Darbus's class and noticed the empty seat in the back. He noticed it in Lab when he was mixing chemicals on his own. He noticed it in Creative Literature when the familiar mane of raven hair wasn't blocking his view, weakening him with the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle.

Everytime he was reminded, three things came into his mind: the kiss that even a week later still burned his lips whenever he thought about it, the tortured look in Gabriella's usually strong eyes that made him feel like a knife was jammed in his heart, and her suspension. There was something off about it. He could feel it.

He supposed if one were to look at Gabriella and drugs, it'd be an obvious two plus two equation. After all bad girls seemed to do that sort of thing, and Gabriella clearly fitted the bill of the bad girl. She had piercings, tattoos, revealing clothing that always showed off her figure, and a mouth that could shock Robert De Niro if he heard half the things that came out of her mouth. Hence, when she convinced him to skip free period with her, he thought she was taking him to a bar.

That was before though. Before when he was blinded by the smart-ass, fiery front she wore as army.

Groaning to himself, Troy climbed out of bed at three in the morning and headed upstairs to his library. Flicking on the light, he settled down at his desk, spreading out sheets of paper and tapping the pen against the desk, trying to figure out where to start.

According to witnesses who were outside the office, Matsui sent the guards to Gabriella's locker shortly after Ms. Mills found a note on her desk saying that there was suspicious activity going on in Locker 596. According to Penelope Milles, who was Ms. Mills' part-time assistant and one of Sharpay's reliable sources, the guards found the bag of drugs on the first shelve, in plain sight.

A note that informed Matsui that suspicious activity was going on. The bag of drugs being left in plain sight when they searched her locker. Something definitely wasn't right.

Now Troy didn't know much about drug-dealing other than what he had seen in movies and TV shows and read about in books. But one of the things he took away from what he had seen and read about the topic was that drug-dealers, when caught or careful to avoid being caught, hid their stashes in secret hiding places not even close friends would know where to look. No drug-dealer, no matter how cocky, wouldn't bother hiding their stash for the sake of caution.

Leaving it-correction-not even bothering to hide the drugs was naïve and incredibly stupid. Gabriella was many things: wild, unpredictable, cool, bold. The girl was _way _far from naïve. Stupidity was one of the few words he'd never use to describe her.

Then there was also the note that informed the principal of the drugs. It seemed too awfully convenient that the evidence was sitting in plain sight when the guards searched Gabriella's locker. Much too convenient for Troy's liking.

She was framed, Troy concluded, and he intended to find out by whom.

The next day at school, Troy searched through the sea of students to find his pink-obsessed friend. He found her pressed against Zeke's locker, their bodies tangled in limbs, their lips doing more than pecking.

Without missing a beat, Troy walked by and yanked Sharpay away. The move was done so swiftly, Zeke leaned in for another kiss and ended up with a bruised forehead, courtesy of his locker.

"Hey!" he complained.

"Troy!" Sharpay exclaimed.

"Sorry," he said to the angry couple, still walking. "Need to borrow your girlfriend for a bit. I'll return her to you as soon as I'm done."

"Troy!" She banged against his arm, trying to free her arm.

He led them to the library, which was empty with the expectation of the librarian checking in some books at the front side. Still, it was East High and he never knew who could be close, eavesdropping on their private conversation. To be on the safe side, he took Sharpay upstairs to the fourth floor that housed the nonfictions and autobiographies, a section practically no one searched through.

The second they were up, Sharpay, with a loud grunt, yanked her arm from Troy's grip, caring for it tenderly though there wasn't a scratch on her skin. "Geez, Troy, man-handle much?"

"Gabriella doesn't do drugs. She doesn't deal either, and that bag wasn't hers." Troy wasted no time getting to the point. "Someone framed her."

"What?" Any annoyance she had felt towards for him interrupting her morning suck-face time with Zeke disappeared immediately.

"She was framed," Troy quickly covered Sharpay's mouth before she asked another question. "I can't give any other explanation other than the fact this whole thing doesn't seem right to me. There's more to the story, Shar. I know it-I can feel it. Gabriella was framed, and because of evidence and her reputation Matsui will just think this is an open and shut case. But I'm not going to let that happen. I'm going to get to the bottom of this."

Sharpay managed to wiggle her lips free from Troy's grasp. After giving Troy a dark glare, she quickly grabbed her mirror and her tube of Chanel lip-gloss, retouching her smudged lips with three strokes of her brush. She winked at her reflection, smiling admirably. "Fabulous."

On brother. Troy rolled his eyes. Half the time he couldn't tell which of the following Sharpay loved more: the spotlight, Zeke, or her reflection. "Sharpay, can you put away the mirror and focus?"

Ignoring his request, she held the mirror as she looked hard into her reflection, searching for any signs of imperfection. She gave her blonde hair a few fluffs and combed it out with her fingers. "And why may I ask would you take it upon yourself to help a distraction?" She held her hand out, cutting Troy off before he could get a word out. "Remember how you told this you had your four main goals. You mentioned that the key step of achieving those goals would be avoiding any sort of distraction. And it's clear to anyone with functioning eyes that Gabriella Montez became your distraction. So why do want to help?"

Before Sharpay held out her hand, he was ready to chew her head off. Hearing Gabriella being referred to as a distraction brought to live great defensiveness he didn't know he possessed. As she continued to talk, though, his anger toned down bit by bit as her words got to him. He couldn't deny that she was right: part of his goals was to avoid anything that would get in the way of them. Gabriella happened, and she soon became that thing.

She brought lightness (in her own way) to his seriousness. She brought spontaneous to his familiarity. She brought a whole new perspective that dimmed the importance of his goals. She had him questioning himself, what he believed were important. He became so scared of what she was doing, that he decided distance was the best thing for her, pretty much implying at Burger King last month in a sugar-coded way that she wasn't good for him.

At the time he thought he was being reasonable. Sincere. But Sharpay saying what he pretty much told Gabriella not only one, but-recalling the disastrous Christmas party-twice made him realize how really awful they sounded on the other end.

_Good God, I'm such an idiot._ Troy mentally slapped himself in the forehead.

Sharpay fixed her makeup one more time before snapping shut her mirror and placing it back in her bag. Turning over to Troy, she asked "Why would you want to go help strength something you consider to be a no-no in the great Troy Bolton's plan for success?"

"Because I owe her."

It may not have been the most daring or clever answer, but it was a true one. He did owe Gabriella for a lot of things. He owed her for throwing her into the black pit of memories. He owed her for making her recall a memory so bad that she ended up crying. He owed her for taking advantage of her while she was vulnerable. He owed her for being straight-forward and not walking on egg-shells around him. He owed her for being an attentive ear that listened to him-_really_ listened to him. He owed her for never questioning or pitying the scars but understanding them with that steady, non-judgmental look in her eyes.

"I owe her." he repeated again more firmly.

Sharpay looked at Troy for what felt like an hour. He couldn't be sure, but it was as if she was able to read his thoughts and knew the reasons behind his words. He thought this because in an instant a smile spread across her glossy, pink lips. "So what do you want me to do, Sherlock Holmes?"

There were times like this that Troy was grateful to have Sharpay as a sister. He pecked her on the cheek. "You rock, you know that?"

"Yes I do," she nodded. "And I also know my very generous rockiness doesn't come cheap. I know you met up with Gabriella before she was called into the principal's office. I also know something very juicy happened between the two of you because, according to witnesses, you looked extremely flushed in your next class. I want details and I want them now."

His smile shattered like a vase knocked down to the floor. Her smile was wide and wicked like the Cheshire cat.

Damn. He really should have seen that one coming.

_You can do this. You can do this_, Troy told himself.

* * *

><p>It was Saturday afternoon and he was parked outside of Starbucks on Wayland Street, watching people going in and coming out. He had been inside his car, watching people go in and out, repeating the same chant for the past three hours.<p>

_It's now or never, Bolton. If you don't go in, then you'll be stuck here all night. _

Taking in a deep breath, Troy unlocked his car, got out, and walked into the café, walking quickly. He knew if he took a slow step, then hesitation kicked in. When the hesitation kicked in, then he'd be back inside the car, trying to gather up his courage again.

Though it was late in the afternoon, close to nighttime, the place was still fairly busy. Most of the tables were taken over by customers chatting with friends or on the phone over coffee or searching the web on their flashy laptops or iPads. There were three sets of lines at the cashier, which was run by three workers.

Gabriella wasn't among them. Either she had left earlier or worked a different case. Her friend-dark-skinned, good-looking, had his hands around her body when the two tangoed to Shakira-on the other hand was taking orders from line two.

_Alright. You can do this. You can do this. _Troy chanted as he got in line two, practicing what was going to say to him.

Try to make a conversation with him. Talk about sports. He must like sports. After all dancing is a sport, right? Then again that's not the best thing. Maybe you should talk about movies. Debate whether Batman would beat Superman in a fight. Talk about whether the _Dark Knight Rises_ lived up to _The Dark Knight_. Then in the middle of the conversation, slyly put in Gabriella's name and see if you get a phone number from him.

"Next," he called, not even bothering to look up from the register.

_You can do this_, Troy told himself.

The last time Troy had seen this guy, he was dancing with Gabriella, kissing her in front of customers shamelessly. It was clear the two of them were close. He had a hard time believing that Gabriella would let anyone touch her shoulder without twisting their arm, much less kiss her like that. Nevertheless the two were close, so naturally Troy thought that he was the best way for him to get Gabriella's number.

He certainly didn't expect for Rob-thankfully he had his name tag-to look up and immediately burst into laughter.

"Dear God. Dear God." Rob laughed so hard that he held onto his stomach with one hand.

Okay then. "I take it you remember me," Troy took the loud boast of laughter as a yes. "Good to know. May I ask what's so funny?"

It took awhile for Rob to control himself. He gave Troy a slight smile the Wildcats captain couldn't tell whether it was sincere or taunting. The smile looked to be a bit of both. "I'm laughing because I'm picturing the scenario that would have gone down if you had come by two hours earlier. One very violent yet comical scenario that would be the top-watched video on YouTube, most-viewed post on Facebook, and most re-blogged post on Tumblr."

So he was right. Gabriella was here. And he missed her. Troy wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing. "She's really mad at me, isn't she?"

Rob leaned forward, as if they were two friends trading secrets. The amusement oozing from his smile alerted Troy that he was being taunted. "Let's put it this way, puppy dog," His smile grew bigger as he noticed the flash of irritation passing through Troy's eyes. He didn't seem to let him alternating Gabriella's nickname for him. "Before you say '"Hi'" you'll be sprawled on the ground and looking at a plate of your ripped-off, charred-black balls Gabriella tore off and triple-dipped in the fryer."

Good God. Troy shuddered. He was able to picture that very graphic scene with perfect clarity. "I see."

Rob laughed again, his hand poised on the register, ready to type in the order. "So what do you want?"

There goes Troy's plan for talking about the Batman movies. Since Rob threw in Gabriella's name, Troy saw there was no point wasting opprunity. "I want a phone number."

Without looking up, Gabriella's friend said "Flattered, but I'm more so interested in ladies' parts. You can try our manager, Randy. He's quite the sucker for baby blues."

Wait! WHAT?!

"Dude, I'm not gay!" His voice rose higher than he intended, grabbing the attention of everyone in the café. Blushing bright red, Troy looked down at his shoes.

Entertained by the boy's humiliation, Rob did little to hold in his laughter. "What a darn shame. You would have been the closest thing Randy had to doing with the horizontal mambo with Zac Efron."

Troy glared at him, and Rob only laughed harder. Troy was starting to see why Gabriella and this guy got along so well. They both had the same sense of dry, twisted humor. "Funny."

"I know, I know," Rob easily took Troy's sarcasm as a compliment. "I'll be here all week."

Hot. Dog. Troy did little to resist rolling his eyes. He could definitely understand why Gabriella tolerated this guy. "Look I don't know whatever impression I must had given you, but I don't play for that team. I'm into girls and only girls."

Especially one fiery Latina with piercing eyes and a wicked smile that entangled him into her dark web.

It was as if Rob was a mind-reader that knew what was going on inside Troy's head. The amusement in his face toned down. He almost looked serious-serious as he could be. "Yea, I can tell."

"But I do need a number."

"And whose number would that be?"

Troy wasted no time. "The fiery Latina whom you predicted would serve me my dick extra crispy."

When Rob looked back up at Troy, every bit of amusement vanished from his face, making him look older and much more intimidating than Troy thought he could look. "And what makes you think I'll do that?"

Steady now, Troy. You can do this. "Well you two seem close. I would have to guess that you know how I can reach her."

"Let me rephrase the question. Why should I give you her number?"

"Because-"Good God, damn. Out of all the things to prepared himself for, he didn't anticipate Rob would be asking why he needed her phone. He honestly thought Rob's good-nature mood and amusement would have him write it down for him with no questions asked.

Without skipping a beat, Rob pushed Troy aside and served the three people who were behind Troy waiting to order, signaling that the conversation was over.

What the hell! Troy stared at him, incredulous. Rob didn't acknowledge the glare he sent him, focusing on the customers' orders.

"Thank you. Come again." Rob smiled charmingly at the middle-aged woman who ordered a large white chocolate mocha and dropped a generous five dollars into the tip jar. His charming smile turned sour as Troy stepped forward, a look of determination "Goodbye."

"I'll go goodbye when you give me that number."

Eyes narrowed coldly, Rob looked Troy right in the eye as he said "Gabriella is better off without you."

If Rob meant for his words to sting, they succeed. Troy felt like he was stung by dozens of bees.

He looked up at Rob and instantly looked away, regretting that move. The look in Rob's eyes was dark yet knowing, as if he knew what Troy had done to Gabriella. How he called her a distraction he couldn't have in his life. How he broke down her walls. How he broke her.

Rob shook his head, making a sound under his breath that sounded like a snort, as moved him aside and took three more orders.

As soon as he was done with the last customer, Troy stepped in front of him, accepting the frown on Rob's face with one of his own.

"Goodbye!" Rob repeated.

"I'm not going anywhere until I get what I came here for!" Troy said. "Look I understand that you care about her. But you know what? So do I-and a hell lot more than I possibly thought I could. And you know, maybe you're right. Maybe she's better off without me. Maybe I just mess things, like I do with everything else in my life. But I made a mistake-a dozens of mistakes, actually-and I need to talk to her. You want to play overprotective friend or make-out buddy or whatever the hell you are to her, then fine. Go ahead. I'll just find some other way to talk to her, and you can bet your ass that I will find that way. Even if I have to drive around every block and neighborhood in town until I see her, then I will."

Rob looked at him, looked at him for what felt like forever. He shook his head and went back to the register.

Okay then. Troy accepted this defeat with a nod, turning around and heading to the door. Looks like he had a lot of driving to do.

"Yo puppy dog!" Troy turned around and saw Rob beckoning him. Immediately he went to him.

Sighing under his breath, Rob handed him a napkin he folded. Troy found he written not only Gabriella's number, but her address.

Stunned, Troy looked up at Rob, who only shrugged. "If you plan on calling, she'll never pick up if she sees an unknown number on her phone. If you actually have the balls to show up at her door, then make you have a pepperoni pizza with you. She'll be too distracted by the pizza to see the person holding it."

Without another word, Rob went to the back to check on stock, leaving the stunned teenager alone.

_Good God_, Troy thought.


	23. Chapter 23

**ET Chapter 23: Twist Me, Take me, Kiss Me**

"You have reached your destination," said the feminine, monotone voice coming from Troy's GPS.

One thought came to mind as Troy stared around his surroundings, taking in the tall, run-down apartment buildings arranged in a half circle. Most were three stories, four stories. The one right in front of him was five stories tall, the biggest out of them and appeared the most run-down.

Holy hell.

Now Troy liked to think of himself as a very culture, well-rounded guy. He liked to think that, despite his wealthy background, he wasn't spoiled rotten and snobby, like his parents who had no shame throwing money around like tissues. Or like the Evans twins whose idea of roughing it was spending time at their lake-house that only had one hot-tub and two indoor pools.

Okay, yes, he never had to be of want of anything materially. His mom had the maids and butlers order new things every week. Sure, he had a choice to drive any of the Italian sport cars that were parked in their garage. And, yes, he will admit any place he ever been to always featured at least two pools and an entertainment room. But he would like to think he wasn't completely clueless.

However, being in Gabriella's neck of the woods, Troy realized how blind he really could be.

The address Rob had given Troy was far from Troy's neck of the woods, leading to an area that was known more for its' hostility than hospitality. Anxiety grew in his stomach as he drove, noticing how smaller and shabbier the buildings appeared as he drove, the more apartments came to view, the more graffiti was sprayed onto walls.

He finally reached his destination, stopping in front of a series of apartments located at a dead end street. The five-story, run-down building was where Gabriella lived.

Troy didn't want to seem like a wuss, but he couldn't deny that he was feeling uneasy. It could because of the illegal gambling game going on across from the street, where three Hispanic men were rolling dice. It could because of the three pairs of sneakers dangling from the phone lines, softly swinging back and forth, sending a chill through his spine. It could because of the number of dark glares he received of the residents coming in and going out, obviously not liking some rich dude slumming in their territory.

_Except you're not slumming_, reminded his logic side. _You're here to make things right._

Troy looked over at the passenger seat, where laid an extra large pepperoni from Bertucci's with a side order of their rolls, still steaming hot, and Tuscan chicken wings. Rob mentioned that if he was brave enough for a house-visit, then he better have a pepperoni pizza with him. He wasn't sure which pizza place to go, so he settled with place that was known for the best pizza.

Troy's thought came to a halt as one of the gamblers-a Puerto Rican if he had to guess-took a break from the game, resting on the hood of Troy's car.

_What the hell?_ Troy stared at the man, incredulous.

Oblivious to Troy's shock, the man had himself a cigarette as he told a call, blowing rings of smoke while speaking in rapid Spanish.

_Rude,_ Troy thought, his annoyance growing. He stuck his head out the car window and called out to him "Hey buddy!"

The man didn't acknowledge Troy or didn't care to do so. He took another drag of his cigarette and placed the burning tip against the side of his car.

Forget growing. Troy's annoyance flared, flared as bright as his cigarette tip. If his dad saw the burnt mark, he'll burn Troy himself with a life-size cigarette. And make sure to do it slowly. And the last thing he needed was Jack's anger.

"Hey buddy!" he repeated, honking his honk. "Move it or pay for it."

Finally the guy looked at him, and the look he gave Troy was scary to say the least. Taking one last puff, he drew the burning tip from the left side over to the center of the car while blowing a cloud of smoke in Troy's direction.

"To you from me, white boy." He smirked tauntingly, blowing him a kiss. He tapped the car's hood with a hard force, nearly creating a dent, and went back to the game, where his friends were chuckling like hyenas over the ordeal.

Good God. Talk about a friendly welcoming into the neighborhood. If this was the environment Gabriella had grown up in, then he was beginning to understand her attitude.

Troy tried to hold in the coughing that was suffocating him, caused from the jerk's massive smoke cloud. The last thing he wanted was to give those clowns something else to laugh about. Anyway he had more important things to think about. Like how he was going to get inside.

There was a buzzer by the side of the door. Easiest solution to his dilemma would be to get out the car and buzzed Gabriella's apartment. However, there were complications to that solution. One of them being the fact he actually had to speak when using the buzzer. If he buzzed and didn't say anything, then Gabriella would assume he was some freak and won't let him in. If he buzzed and actually spoke into the intercom, then she'd let him stay out there till the next ice-age. He needed a way in without letting Gabriella know of his presence.

He looked over at the gamblers completely absorbed in their game. The one in the middle, thick-necked and bulky compared to the two, came from Gabriella's apartment over an hour ago. He could be swayed to help-on second thought. Nah.

Troy wasn't even going to go there.

Then, as if fate itself decided to lend a poor guy a hand, a blue beat-up Subaru zoomed into the area, parking in front of Troy. What came out was a Chinese-food delivery man from Dragon Wok carrying what looked to be a dozen bags of food walking toward Gabriella's apartment building.

Troy wasted no time grabbing the food and his backpack, which he packed in case he needed to use their project as an excuse for access, and followed the guy. The guy looked at Troy funny, taking in the odd smile on the teenager's face, but nevertheless buzzed the apartment.

"Dragon Wok." The deliveryman said into the intercom. Five seconds later, the buzz went off and they were in.

Sweet.

The inside of the apartment wasn't really bad per say. It definitely was depressing, though, with the dimmed ceiling lights going on and off, the gray walls that had graffiti written on them on some areas with the paint peeling off, and the series of doors that lined the walls.

"First time here?" Troy turned around, meeting the curious eyes of the deliveryman. He was surprised to find him still standing there.

Troy hesitated, but nodded a second later. Amusement dashed across the boy's eyes in a very eerie way that reminded him of Rob. To further prove the similarities between the two, the guy laughed to himself over something Troy had done that he wasn't aware of.

Now the moment felt very déjà vu-like. A little too much for Troy's liking. "Do you know how I can get to the fifth floor?"

Trying but failing to hold in his laughter, the guy pointed to a staircase hidden behind dark doors. A staircase that was more like staircases. A long, long series of staircases that didn't look like stairs but more so like the Great Wall of China stairs with more than a thousand high steps.

Dear God. Just looking at it made his legs throb.

"I don't suppose there's an elevator." Troy said, praying so. He turned around to find the delivery guy gone, his laughter bouncing off the walls. He took his depature as a no.

Troy scowled at where he stood and gulped as he turned back to the staircase that was practically growing, installing more and more steps, before his eyes.

Good God help him.

Five flights of stairs later and ten thousand steps later, Troy wanted to scream out to heavens that he made it while simultaneously collapse onto the ground, using the food as his pillows.

His legs _burnt_ with such a deep ache, it hurt even to wriggle his toes. He was wheezing heavily, as if he couldn't get enough oxygen into his lungs. His shirt wasn't damp-but drenched in sweat, making the fabric clung tightly against his chest.

_Wow_, his evil side taunted. _East High's basketball captain defeated by stairs._ _What would dear daddy say about this?_

Jack wouldn't say anything. Troy knew his dad too well. Well, actually, he would say something. He'd call Troy the weakest piece of shit he has ever met. Then make him sprint up and down those stairs until his feet gushed out blood. Or until he dropped dead. Whichever came first.

He bit forced on his bottom lip as he entered into the fifth floor, ignoring the painful protest his body was doing against the movement. As much as he would love to collapse onto the floor and rest until next week, he still had work to do.

The fifth floor was split into two different wings. Apartments 500 through 525 were on his left side while apartments 526 through 550 were on his right. Gabriella lived in apartment 546, so Troy headed right.

He found the apartment close to the end of the hall. Close by a large window that overlooked the back of the building, which didn't have much other than a chalk-drawn hop-stoch in purple and a sad-looking garden that had more weeds than actual flowers. Troy couldn't help but feel sad as he looked at it.

Apartment 546 was different from the other apartments. While Troy was walking down the doors, his ears were filled with the various sounds blasting from inside from loud music and TV, heated arguments between people with each other or parents, temper-tantrum toddlers and babies screaming at the top of their lungs, and couples-well…couples enjoying themselves very, very loudly with a lot of banging and screaming.

"Oh…ah…Yes! Yes! Right there!" screamed a very vocal woman across the hall. A blush spread across Troy's cheeks as he listened to the loud banging that followed after her praise.

While all the other apartments were alive with their noises, it was all quiet in 546. Too quiet.

_Maybe she's sleeping_, Troy thought. She could be out.

_Only one way to find out_, his logic side said.

Troy balled his hand into a fist and knocked against the door once, twice, three times, and four.

He waited. Nothing.

If at first you don't succeed, try again.

Letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding in, he raised his fist to knock again. Before his hand could touch the door, it flew open.

Gabriella leaned against the doorframe, one hand holding the door, the other resting on her hip. Her left eyebrow rose slightly, but other than that her facial expression didn't give her away. She looked completely indifferent seeing him, almost as if she knew he'd be on the other side of the door.

His heart ached at the sight of her, as if the sight of her was too much for him to handle. He wondered once again how it was possible that a girl with her hair tied into a sloppy bun and no makeup look more intoxicating than any model on the magazines.

His eyes widened in shock as they took in the ensemble she had thrown on. A white t-shirt and nothing else that ended before her thighs, showing a great amount of legs. The words I HEART THE COCK was written across her chest, printed in bold bright red.

A bright red that matched the shade of Troy's blush once he realized that five seconds had gone by and spent those seconds staring at her like he was some kind of nutcase. "-"

The door slammed in his face before he could finish "Hi."

Okay. That went well.

It looked like Rob really wasn't kidding when he said she was pissed at him.

"Gabriella?" he called. Nothing. He knocked, and this time the door didn't open again. "I know I probably deserve that, but I need to explain. I brought some food. It's Bertucci's."

She did open the door-to snatch the box out of his hands and slam the door in his face once again, breaking in his nose in the process.

_God damn it_. Troy sealed his lips together to keep in his pained cry, holding his nose tenderly. It may not be broken, but he could feel a bruise beginning to form.

"Well you smashed my nose in, thank you very much." he said to what may have been an empty door. "You can at least thank me for the food, you know."

A folded piece of paper slide underneath the door. Still holding his bruise-tender nose, Troy squatted down and unfolded it.

**GO ****FUCK**** YOURSELF, **it read.

_Nice_, his evil side snickered.

_Shut up!_ Annoyed, Troy stood up and pounded his fist against the door. "You know that was completely necessary."

_Ouch. Good comeback, pup. _

_Shut up!_

"Okay, look, I may deserve some of it, but if you're mad at me-well we both know you are-then you can at least open the door and say to my face," He pressed his ear against the door. He heard the sound of a TV being turned on, set on a soft volume. "Gabriella, I just want to talk."

Nothing.

"I know you're in there and I know you can hear me," Inside, he could hear the TV's volume turning up. He was sure she increased the volume to block out his voice. "I'm not going anywhere until you open this door and let me in. I'll stand here all night if I have to."

Later on he wished he watched his mouth, because Gabriella took his word for it. He waited and waited for thirty minutes. Then thirty minutes turned into an hour, an hour turned into two hours, and two hours was on its way to three.

After standing on his feet for an hour and some change, Troy leaned against the door and sat down, watching the time slowly go by. He entertained himself with his phone, though had to put that activity on halt when he saw the battery was low. He kept his head down whenever one of the doors opened and a resident stepped out. He felt their glares burning on him as they walked by, probably thinking he was a creep or a boyfriend who got the boot.

_More like the door_, his evil side reminded.

_Not helping. _

Sighing, he knocked softly on the door. He wasn't surprised that the door didn't open.

"I'm sorry, Gabriella. I'm really, really sorry about everything."

Soon enough three hours turned into four hours.

It was around that time that someone came out of their home. Three doors down across the hall, a man who looked like he was in his early fifties and thinning hair stepped out and looked at Troy. Unlike the other gazers, he didn't glance once and moved on. Instead he kept his eyes on Troy, smiling as he leaned against his doorframe, apparently making no plans of going anywhere soon. There was something in his smile, as well as the look in his eye, that made Troy fell uncomfortable in a naked, exposed way.

He blew a kiss in Troy's direction just like the rude gambler had done earlier. Difference between the two air kisses was one was out of spite while the other was done because-

Good God, no. The realization hit Troy like a barrel of bricks. His face turned completely red as the man's smile widened. As the smile widened, with his eyes still locked on Troy's, his hand went down inside his pants.

Troy was up in a flash, banging against the door rapidly, as if his life depended. Which, in this case, it kinda did. He was shocked the door didn't break down by the banging. "GABRIELLA, OPEN THE DOOR!"

He hated that he said like a desperate nutcase, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And when you have a possible-but-most-likely pedophile masturbating behind you and asking for your name, it'd be sin not to resort to desperate measures.

"GABRIELLA, OPEN UP!" Troy pound and pound against the door until he heard a loud "God damnit!" which at the moment was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

With a nasty scowl on her face that would have made Nick Fury cower, Gabriella yanked him in.

Being pulled into Gabriella's apartment was like stepping into a whole another world. It was drastically different from his house. One of the main differences being the fact that his house was simply a house while Gabriella's apartment felt like home. True, it was smaller than any room in his house. It made the maids' laundry room like villa. But what it lacked in size, it made up with quality. The atmosphere was so alive, radiating warmth that felt cozy as a nice blanket.

The living room and kitchen were next door neighborhoods, separated by a countertop table with high stools for chairs that reminded Troy of something from _iCarly_. The kitchen was pretty cramped with the refrigerator taking up most space, a high chair, and smelt heavily of spices. The living room walls were alive in bright color, splashed with yellow and red. There was a small TV in a black TV stand that had seen better days with dozens of photos on top of the stand and around the wall behind the TV.

The place definitely wasn't fancy, but it was still good.

He almost smiled, taking it all in. Instead he grimaced, trying to seal in a grunt, as pain slammed into his left shoulder.

Courtesy of Gabriella's tight fist.

Good God. For such a small girl she really could pack a punch.

"Jesus Christ, Gab-" He stopped short when he saw the chilling darkness raging in her eyes.

"Rob's the one, isn't he?" It was the first thing she said to him since he's been here. Words that were spoken softly yet were packed with barely suppressed venom.

He was confused on why her chuckling friend was brought into the conversation until it hit him. She meant Rob was the one who gave him her address. Slowly he nodded.

The fire blazed in her eyes was wild enough to burn down the entire neighborhood. Under her breath, she murmured a string of venom-spat Spanish words.

"Dead rat," was what Troy managed to translate. He hoped she was referring to Rob as the dead rat.

"Um," He congratulated himself for not cowering when her fire-blaze eyes shot up at him, even though he was mentally flinching at the sight. "I brought some food over…" His voice trailed off as he noticed the Bertucci boxes on the coffee table. The appetizers long gone while there were a few slices of the pizza left. "Which clearly you enjoyed."

Un-amused, Gabriella folded her arms against her chest and arched a brow at Troy. From the look on her face, it was clear she would have no problem kicking him out if he didn't get to the point.

Troy cleared his throat and resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck. Good God he should have prepared for this.

_Just say what's on your mind. _

Clearing his throat once more, he let out a nervous breath. "I know you were set up. I know someone or a group of someones framed you. And I want you to know that I know you're innocent, and that I'm going to find out who did it."

Okay so it wasn't exactly _The King's Speech_, but at least he got to the point.

He looked at Gabriella, whose face was still neutral, revealing nothing. But he could tell his words were heard by her.

"I may not know you that well," he continued. "But I knew enough. I know that you're smart. Brilliantly smart. You're confident but you're not conceited. You're insanely, amazingly talented. You take no bullshit from anyone, even from idiot pups like me. Pups that try to do the right thing even though they just make a mess of everything. Pups that try to show you that we're not that different. Pups that go too far and make you cry-which was never their intention. Pups that make such asses of themselves-"

Gabriella pressed her hand against his mouth, silencing him. Her face was still unreadable but her eyes told him a different story.

She looked like she was ready to say something, but Troy never got a chance to find out what. A loud wailing broke the moment.

Gabriella took her hand back, and Troy tried not to notice the lack of warmth and softness that left his lips. She walked down the hall, disappearing into a room. "Make yourself useful and grab me a bottle from the fridge."

Troy found a fresh bottle in the fridge, grabbed it, and went into the room Gabriella entered.

The room was a small nursery; the room size that of a closet. The entire room painted in mint green and mocha brown, reminding Troy of mint chocolate chip ice cream. There were pictures of the characters from Seasame Street, Dora the Explorer and her cousin Diego, Jake with his pirate friends, and, of course, Barney. The crib had matching mint-green and brown bedding set that matched the wall with a plush Elmo and baby Mickey Mouse. There were piles of toys on the ground, some drooled out and others ripped. A chestnut dresser with what looked like a portable changing pad that looked used took a majority of space, leaving only enough space for a rocker.

The rocker was occupied by Gabriella cradling a small baby that was yawning against her breast, snuggling against her.

Gabriella looked in a way Troy had yet to see her before: content. Completely content with bright warmth in her eyes as she looked down at the baby. She held protective grip around him as she handled him tenderly, gently rocking him and dropping soft kisses on his head.

Taylor's words echoed his head. "…_she's a teen mom…Hispanic; really adorable…the way the baby clung to her was the exact same way a baby clung to their mother._"

Could this baby really be Gabriella's? Was this child her kid?

"Are you going to stand there and gawk or make yourself useful and give me the bottle?"

Great. He was caught staring yet again. He was thanking his lucky stars that she was focusing on the baby and not him. Otherwise his face would be mistaken for a tomato.

He handed her the bottle and stood close by as she fed the baby. The baby's eyes widened a bit, looking a bit more attentive, as he drank the baby. His eyes looked an awful lot like Gabriella's. The same shade of beautiful, melted chocolate. Wide framed with thick lashes. But, while Gabriella's eyes were guarded and often chilled, the baby's eyes were free and warm.

"He's not my son," Gabriella informed. "He's my nephew, Paco."

"Huh? What?" Troy pulled his gaze away from the baby's to look to Gabriella. She didn't look up to meet his gaze. She kept her eyes locked on the kid. "I wasn't thinking-"

She shook her head and muttered some Spanish under her breath he knew were aimed at him. She looked like she'd roll her eyes if it weren't for the baby. "Please. You're an open book, Bolton. And I have little doubt that McKessie didn't waste time telling you and your posse that he's one of the ten children I popped out."

"What-no-I mean-well," Troy bit his tongue hard to stop his rambling. "I mean she did-but-well-he…he really does look a lot like you."

She said nothing else and concentrated. After awhile of waiting for a remark, Troy relaxed and watched Paco along with her. He really was a cute baby. It was hard to look away from him. It was even harder not to smile a bit when looking at him.

"How old is he?" Troy asked.

"Thirteen months." Gabriella wiped a drop of milk rolling down his cheek. Then used the same finger to lightly tap his nose, which brought a chuckle to the baby.

The moment felt so perfect, so nice that Troy wished he has his camera to record the moment. At the same time, though, he felt like an intruder witnessing a very private moment he wasn't meant to see.

Though Paco wasn't her kid, it was clear that he held a special place in his aunt's heart. It was clear in the way she held him. It was clear in the way she looked at him. It was clear in the way she smiled at him.

He had a good feeling that it was a smile that rarely surfaced. He wanted to be the one to put that smile there more often.

When Paco was done drinking, he burped loudly, which caused the two teenagers to laugh. He joined in their laughter, laughing the loudest. He then took notice of Troy standing there and stuck his right hand out, as if he was reaching for him.

"He's a really cute kid." Troy said.

"Of course he is. He's a Montez." Her smile, though still unfamiliarly warm, leaned a bit on the smug side. The baby squirmed in her arms laughing and reaching for Troy. Gabriella kept a firm grip on him. "Looks like he wants to get acquainted with you."

"Hi Paco." Troy waved at the baby. The baby laughed harder and squirmed more. "Can I hold him?"

Gabriella's smile faded as she arched a brow, her expression once again unreadable. She motioned Troy to come closer and gently laid Paco in his arms.

Paco laughed while Troy rocked him. Troy brought the baby close to his face, getting a better at him. Up close he was even more adorable, which Troy didn't think was possible. His eyes were lit with a bright smile in them, making them look beautiful. His dark brown hair was almost the exact shade as his eyes.

"You really are a good-looking baby. You have some pretty good-looking par-_OUCH!_"

Paco grabbed a fistful of Troy's hair with both hands and yanked hard, finding delight in the older boy's pain.

"You seriously have a strong grip for a one year old." Troy said through clenched teeth.

He looked over at the boy's aunt, who wasn't much help at the moment. She was enjoying Troy's pain as much as the baby, laughing twice as hard. "A little help here?"

Laughing, Gabriella laughed as she got up from the rocker and came over to assist. She gently pulled Paco away from Troy, one hand holding him tight, the other tapping his fists. "Release, Paco. Release."

The baby yanked hard, nearly tearing the roots from his scalp before releasing. He settled in his aunt's arms.

"Thank you." Troy winced as he touched his head. It was a light touch that unreleased a chain reaction of throbbing pain. It was as if he had his hair yo-yoed by the Hulk. Repeatedly.

"Yanking hair is Paco's way of welcoming strangers," Gabriella explained. "Think of it as an initiation to his inner circle. And that he sees your pain as a source of entertainment."

So like aunt, like nephew both took pleasure in other people's pain. Good to know.

"Look. Why don't you go into the bathroom and check on your head while I put _mi precioso_ to sleep?" Gabriella suggested.

The suggestion sounded like a pretty good idea to Troy.

He sneaked a peek at Paco, and a small smile spread across his face before he could help himself. Even though his scalp was hurting, he couldn't find himself to feel any ill-temperance to the baby. It was hard to even feel upset when looking at such an angelic face.

"Bye Paco," he kneeled down to the baby's level and waved. "It was nice meeting-_OUCH!_"

The baby sucker-punched his nose. Hard.

"Do you feed this guy steroids or something?" Three hits in one day, including the hair-yanking. It should be a record.

Gabriella snorted, settling her laughing nephew on her hip. "Just go to the bathroom before you get a fat lip."

Troy glared at her, but it was a glare that was wasted on Gabriella, who turned her back to him. He found the bathroom across Paco's room. The place was so small, everything was smushed together.

He looked at his reflection. His nose was bruised and looked purplish ripe, but it wasn't too bad. His head shot a jolt of pain whenever he touched it, but there was no bleeding.

_This is really beautiful_, his evil side said. _You not only got knocked around by Montez. You also suffer the righteous might of her one year old nephew._

_I did not get suffer any righteous might of a baby, asshole. I was just caught off guard. _

_Whatever helps you sleep at night. _

Troy snorted, leaving that as his final word. Once everything was all checked out and looked decent, he left the bathroom.

He was on his way to the living room until he heard something from Paco's room. Singing.

It was Gabriella singing.

Stunned, he pressed his ear against the door. It was beautiful. Unbelievably beautiful. The kind of voice a man wanted to hear before the angel of death took him away.

He peeked into the room. Gabriella was standing over Paco's crib, singing a Spanish lullaby softly to the sleeping baby as she rubbed his back, a soft smile on her face.

It was astonishing to see such a beautiful, even if soft, smile from her. It was astonishing to see her at such ease, her guard left down and her walls momentarily open.

He shut the door softly behind him. He didn't want Gabriella to catch him spying on her.

He was ready to go into the living until he spotted a room that was down the hall, almost isolated from the other two bedrooms and the bathroom. He could see the door was open just a crack, its contents indicating that it belonged to a teenager girl. Or, in her case, a young woman.

His feet walked him to the door before he could a breath. His hand touched the knob, waiting to turn it.

Does he dare open it?

_No, no, and no!_ His logic side exclaimed. _Bolton, you're signing your own death certificate if you open that door. For God's sake, moron, it's a complete invasion of privacy. _

_Privacy, smrivacy, _argued his evil double. _Don't you get it, Bolton? This is the prayer that you've been waiting for. For months you've been trying to figure out Montez. What lies behind this door could be the answer you've been waiting for. This could be your only shot to know more about her. _

Damn his logic side for bringing up a good point. Damn his devil side for bringing up a good and also tempting point as well.

What the hell was he going to do? Risk his neck or satisfy curiosity?

_The choice is yours, Bolton_, they said in unison.

Troy sucked in a deep breath. Then quickly opened the door and ran inside as he was given a five second head-start.

What he saw stunned him. He pictured Gabriella's room to be completely edgy, painted in dark colors, with posters of hard-core skeletons and classic rock and rollers.

He saw Christmas lights draped on the ceiling.

He saw purple. Not on the walls, though. The rest of the room. The soft purple rug, the bed setting, and curtains, though they were tainted with black edges.

He saw a mess. Clothes scattered everywhere, on the window still, on the bed, hanging on the closet door, peeking through the half-open drawers of her dresser. The bed was even unmade, the pillows lopsided and pushed to the wall, the blanket close to falling to the ground.

He saw writing material and music. Piles of journals stacked on the window still, the dresser, and one on her bed turned to a page that were half-filled. There was an iHome dock on her dresser that held her black iPod nano.

He saw books; so many books that it made the small room almost look like a mini library. On the small black and white nightstand next to her bed were a stack of five books, on the bed were books along with journals scattered all over. Books piled up into stacks on her dresser, and about nine or ten purple bins stuffed with books crowding the floor. She had a pretty impressive collection. There were _Pride and Prejudice, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Great Gatsby, Jane Eyre, The Catcher in the Rye, Little Women, Wuthering Heights, The Phantom of the Opera, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_, a tattered-cover paperback version of _Great Expectations_, _Catch-22_, and _1984_. And that was just her classic collection that was stacked in piles. The modern books were the ones stuffed in her bins. Everything from the _Harry Potter_ series, _The Hobbit, The Book Thief_ and _Before I Fall_ to _The Outsiders_, _The Hunger Games_ series and _Beautiful Creatures _to _Divergent _and a series called _Perfect Chemistry_. Every book written by Sarah Dessen, James Patterson (mysteries though) and John Green, and, to Troy's amazement, the complete series of _Vampire Academy_.

The walls were bare of color but every inch of them was covered with posters and collages. Posters and collages of Michael Jackson, Paula Abdul, Janet Jackson, Shakira, Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, and Naya Rivera. A collage of a young woman doing every dance created from ballet and modern to jazz and hip-hop. There were some posters and quotes from books, too. Three posters from the Divergent series, four from the Hunger Games, and there were two he didn't recognize featuring a black-haired, pale-skinned girl with her face covered dressed in beautiful gowns.

On the closet door were three posters. One of Michael Jackson in the center, a close-up portfolio from his _Bad _music video, his dark eyes hooded and somber. To his left was one of a young Britney Spears taken from her earlier years. Dressed in a stomach-baring purple top and jean shorts, her hair a mix of dark blond and light brown, leaning against a pole. To his right a poster of Shakira looking fierce with those dark eyes of hers. Behind the door was a big, and he meant big, poster of Johnny Depp.

He saw Disney. More specifically, he saw Disney dolls on her dresser, which was used as some sort of display case. Leaning against the mirror and standing tall there was Princess Jasmine with Aladdin, Belle with the Beast, Mulan with Shaung and a tiny plush Mushu, the girl from Hercules with Hercules, Pocahontas and John Smith, and the gypsy girl from the hunchback movie with the blonde solider and the hunchback by her side. She was standing front center.

Of all the things in the world, he never-not a million, billion years-would he peg Gabriella Montez as a Disney girl. Yet there they were, Disney Princesses with their love interest and friends smiling their frozen-bright smiles at Troy.

_Well I'll be damned_, he thought, taking the room in. It wasn't a thing like he imagined. Well, other than the mess, it was hard to believe that room really belonged to Gabriella. It was as if having two different pieces that somehow belonged to the same puzzle.

_Told you you'd find some answers behind the door_, his evil side said.

Ordinarily Troy would tell that side to stuff it with the smugness. However he couldn't deny that his evil side had a right to be smug right now. He was right after all. Troy did learn some things about Gabriella.

He learned she was a slob, though he didn't judge her for it. He learned that she really did love to read. She was a fan of Deep, Spears, Shakira, MJ, a girl whose character was very similar to Gabriella, and two famous dancing women he had a good feeling were her dancing inspirations. She was a writer. She was a Disney girl-

_And a Victoria Secret's shopper_, his evil side jumped in, cutting off Troy's train of thought. _Bra at three o'clock. _

What? Troy turned his gaze to the given direction and felt the blood rush to his cheeks as he saw it.

A bra. A Victoria's Secret bra. On the edge of Gabriella's bed, half covered by her violet blanket.

_Bolton_, his logic side immediately jumped in. _Don't you dare! You're on thin ice being in Gabriella's room. If you dare do what I think you're going to do, you're just begging the death angel to murder you. _

Damn his logic side for being right, bringing up a valid point. And double damn his evil side for tempting him with such an intoxicating sight.

He'd be a very stupid man if he dared looked. Then again, he'd also be a very stupid man if he turned down this one-in-a-million-chance.

He bit his lip, weighing in his options.

Good God may you help him.

He quickly snatched the bra and brought it close to his face, examining. He could smell the faint scent of jasmine and roses mixed with a hint of vanilla. He couldn't resist breathing in it, feeling intoxicated by the familiar scent.

It was definitely a Victoria Secret's bra. Ivory with black lace trim by the sides. Size 38 C.

_Not too small_, his evil side remarked. _Not too big_. _Just the perfect size. _

_Indeed,_ Troy agreed, inhaling another whiff of jasmine and roses.

He closed his eyes, and his mind played a scene. Of Gabriella slowly walking toward in nothing but a button-up shirt that hung on her body. Slowly she straddled his hips and, with a devilish smirk on her lips and in her eyes, undid each button. Painful slow to torture her. One button, he saw bare skin. Two buttons he saw the bra. Three buttons she had on nothing but the bra. Four buttons-

"Should I leave you two alone so you can get more acquainted?"

Dear God, no!

Slowly he turned his head open. Gabriella leaned against her door-frame, her arms folded, left eyebrow arched.

Shit!

"Um…this isn't what it looks like." He realized how stupid he both looked and pathetic as he finished the sentence.

The arched brow rose slightly higher, and Troy wanted nothing more than for the floors to swallow him whole.

"Right," Gabriella drawled after a moment of awkward silence that nearly went on forever. "Mind letting me use my room or would you rather I leave so you can get to second base with my bra?"

It took exactly five long seconds for him to realize he was still holding her bra. His face flushed as he dropped it.

"Um…I…it...Bye-bye." Giving a weak wave, Troy made a speedy exit.

Good God. Good God. Good God. Why, someone please tell him, did he have to make a complete ass of himself around her? It was as if fate enjoyed his humiliation.

His logic and evil side were no help either. They were busy laughing themselves to death.

He had no idea how long Gabriella was going to be in her room. Nevertheless he was determined not to make an ass of himself again.

His opinions were to take a seat on the couch and wait patiently. Finish reading _Great Expectations_ for English class so he could start the twelve-page paper that was due in two days. Or-

His eyes landed on the pictures posted on top and around the TV case. There were a dozen or so pictures. Most of Paco, a majority of him smiling or laughing into the camera. There was two of them a few days old and tiny, clad in a diaper, smiling with one hand in his mouth and the other reaching for the camera.

There was three of a tall, dark-haired man. One was of him somber while there were two when he had a smile. In one he had a small smile on the corner of his lip as he looked down at the pretty Latina entangled in his arms, his eyes lit with warmth and care. In the other picture, his smile was wide and free as he lifted a laughing Paco over his head, grinning at the baby.

There was four of the pretty Latina the man was hugging. Another one of them, their foreheads pressed against one another, smiles on their faces as if they were perfectly content. One of her at a party, dressed in a fluttery light purple dress, giving a coy wink over her shoulder. One of her at the beach, tanning in a white and black number. The last was of her carrying Paco in her arms, brushing his hair back, smiling down at him.

There was a family portrait of them, taken at the park, the photographer most likely a fellow parent who decided to help them capture the moment. In the picture Paco was the only one looking into the camera with his signature smile while the girl threw her head back, her mouth open wide to let out a laugh, and the young man with an equally big smile on his face as he looked at her.

The picture was nowhere near as perfect as the wildly-expensive, professionally-done portraits his mother had done for the Bolton family. It was so ordinary, almost plain in comparison. And, yet, Troy saw the picture was perfect in its own way. It was the perfect picture of family: genuine and happy, showing the love they had for one another was unconditional.

There was only two of Gabriella. One of her at the park with Paco, flying him over her head like he was an airplane, smiling into the baby's laughing face. The other was of her as a kid.

The bright, warm smile that graced her lips and nearly resembled her nephew's threw Troy off guard. She looked to be either six or seven, at some sort of amusement park. Troy guessed it had to be Halloween during the time because she was dressed as a zombie ballerina and the boy next to her, with his arms wrapped around her, was dressed as the Hulk. He looked to be about thirteen or so.

Troy looked at the bright, smiling girl in the picture and thought about the hard, seemingly cold woman whom nearly kicked his ass in. The same woman who had demons she tried to keep at bay with her thick walls. He wondered what happened to that little girl.

"What the hell is it with you and gawking?"

Oh dear God. No, no, no. Slowly he turned around, and, sure enough, Gabriella was right there.

"I wasn't…I was just…" He realized he was rambling, which was only making things worse for him. "You look so happy. In the picture."

Any warmth he saw from earlier was gone. The loving aunt vanished and the stone-hard queen was back on her throne. The walls he had broken were back, thick with steel and iron, embedded with razor-like thrones. The cold, dark glare in her eyes the walls' knights armed with swords and spears, ready to cut him down.

"Gabriella, I-"

"What the hell do you want, Bolton!" she demanded.

"I just…I just wanted you to know that I know you're innocent. And I'm going to prove it."

"Well, thank you, Sherlock Holmes," she interrupted, and jerked her head toward the door. "Have a nice day. _Don't _come back."

_You can do this, Bolton. You can do this_."I also wanted to apologize."

"For what?"

"For being an ass. Repeatedly. For being a really big ass." Jesus. How was it that words that seemed decent in his head always sounded wrong whenever they were spoken out loud? "And…"

Gabriella was silent as she crossed her arms and glared at him.

"And…"

_Kissing her_, his logic side suggested. _That was a slimy move, Bolton_.

Logic was right. Kissing Gabriella after breaking her was a pretty slimy move. The kind an asshole would do, taking to turn vulnerability into an advantage.

That definitely would be something he needed to apologize her except there was one problem. He honestly wasn't sure if he was sorry for the kiss. Being sorry would mean he regretting fulfilling a dream that's been on his mind since she walked into homeroom last October. Regretting feeling the softness of her lips against his, her incredible taste he knew he'd never get enough of, and the heat that turned him inside out.

Of all the things he was sorry for, kissing Gabriella wasn't one of them.

"And I'm really sorry that I broke you. I opened up wounds I had no business of opening, and made you cry-"

She silenced him, but not with words or her hands. She silenced him with her eyes. Her eyes that darkened frighteningly that shut the words just as effective as words.

"Get. Out." she said. She had spoken the words so softly; it was hard to hear her. Yet, they were packed with chilling venom that was heard loud and clear.

"Gabriella-"

"Get out!"

"I just wanted-"

"Get the fuck out!" Her voice was less than a notch away from a full scream. He could tell she was trying to gain control for the sake of Paco, who was sleeping away in his crib a few doors down.

"No."

Gabriella stared at him, one, two, and three. Three seconds, four. Then threw in a punch that nearly shattered his right shoulder bone.

_Son of a goddamn FUCKING bitch, _thought Troy, of the pain that was harder than solid bricks. He bit his lip hard, placing a hand over the bruised shoulder, trying not to think too much of the pain as he slowly breathed.

"Okay," he breathed out. "I probably deserved that."

She socked him in the other shoulder. Twice as hard.

_God-fucking damnit! _"Okay," Troy said, placing his other hand on the new injured shoulder. "I probably deserve that one, too."

Gabriella glanced down at his lower abdomen that was exposed. Following her eyes, Troy glanced down, and quickly covered himself, stepping three steps back.

"Look I know I'm not your favorite person in the world. I know you'd like nothing more than to beat me like a piñata but…" He looked over at his backpack lying underneath the coffee table. He remembered the notes he had taken down for Creative Literature and ideas for the project. "We still have our project to work on."

_Really? _Evil asked him while logic sighed. _That's all you got?_

_Shut up!_ Troy focused his attention on Gabriella and her fiery eyes that could make a grown man piss in his pants by their powerful gaze. _I know what I'm doing. _

_I hope. _

He swallowed down a nervous lump wedged in his throat and carried on, "Either you let me stay so we can work on the project or I can go to Mr. Cummings' office tomorrow and inform him that my partner isn't pulling her weight. That would be a real shame since that project is worth a lot for our final grade, and he has a reputation for failing students that don't work on group assignments."

To anyone else, a slacker most definitely, they wouldn't acknowledge his threat. They would call it bluff, one a slacker most definitely would shrug off, giving him permission to have at it.

Gabriella wasn't anyone else, though. She most definitely wasn't a slacker. Troy had seen the number of classical fiction, historical fiction, and science fiction books she had in her room. He had seen, when he was close enough, the homework assignments that always had an A+ plastered on the top right and the papers and assignments in her room that all had hundred on them. The girl may not care for school and teachers, but she definitely cared about education. About learning. About her grades. It was one of the few things in life she could control.

She stepped forward. For the sake of caution, Troy kept his hands in front of his abdomen in case she was ready to strike. But Gabriella wasn't striking. She was glaring, glaring hard for a long time until any bravery or bit of confidence Troy had was shredded.

"You're a real dick," she told him. "You know that?"

She didn't wait for Troy to reply. She headed back to her room and slammed the door.

Damn.

Well, he tried. It didn't go well as he had hoped. Her hatred of him had clearly increased due to this visit. But at least he tried, which was something.

Or so he told himself as he gathered his things and walked over to the door.

"Bolton!"

Troy turned around. He then thanked God for his basketball reflexes as he caught hold of the flying object Gabriella had threw at him before it hit his head.

It was a DVD. The case was colored in different shades of red with words _Carmen_ written in golden-yellow above an attractive dark-haired woman in a revealing low-cut dress.

Confused, Troy looked up at the Gabriella. But she was already moving into the kitchen, taking the half-eaten pizza box with her.

"I assume you know to work a DVD player." she said.

_What?_ Troy watched Gabriella as she piled the remaining slices onto a plate she placed inside the white-faded-to-yellow microwave. Once the timer was set and the pizza was cooking, she moved onto the fridge.

"Okay, I'm confused." Troy admitted.

Gabriella snorted, not bothering with herself to look back. "It's not rocket science, numbskull. Click the power button on the DVD player and wait for the red light. When you see red, click the open-slash-close button. Place DVD in slot, press the button, and, presto, you're watching a movie. Easy as A, B, C."

"I don't mean the DVD. I mean the movie." Troy clarified.

Gabriella sighed. This time she turned around to meet Troy's confused gaze. "If we want to do really well on the project, then we need to understand our characters. On YouTube, there are tons of versions of the play posted. But when I found out, it was made into a movie; I thought it would be interesting for us to watch."

Troy looked at her, then back at the DVD, and nodded. By time Gabriella came back to the living room, Troy was seated on the couch, his binder turned open to a fresh page, the disc inside playing.

Gabriella came back with the heated pizza she placed on the coffee table, along with a bag of Tostitos, and sodas. Coke for him, Dr. Pepper for her. She joined him on the couch, keeping a good amount of distance between them. Troy had feeling it was so there was no chance of accidental brushing against skin.

"Is this movie entirely in Spanish?" Troy noticed how most of the previews were in Spanish and only one offered subtitles.

"There are subtitles." Gabriella shrugged.

Before the movie started, Gabriella gave him a warning. "Keep in mind that movies aren't exactly accurate all the time when they come from a book or play. This movie is a good example. There are parts that aren't in the play that the director threw in to spice things up. Just study Don Jose and see how he developed."

She selected English subtitles, and then pressed play. The two sat in silence as the movie began.

Gabriella was right. There parts of the movie that weren't in the play. For example, the narrator who had a glimpse of Carmen's dark web and visited Don Jose before his sentenced execution, getting his version of the story. Carmen's husband, who was nasty-looking and a big bully. There were also the sex scenes-quite a lot of sex scenes, along with nudity- that made him bush

Other than that, Troy did find the movie interesting. And in some ways familiar. Don Jose in a lot of ways reminded Troy of himself. Troy was Jack's perfect solider, taking orders and hits without hesitation or question. Then came in a bewitching gypsy who made him change the rules. Who toyed with him. Taunted him. Haunted his thoughts.

Gabriella was practically Carmen's twin. Though she wasn't quite as open of her sexuality, she was very much like the gypsy. She wasn't afraid to strike anyone if they crossed her. She was cold and often harsh. She was unpredictable. She was seductive. She could easily and did so easily unravel him the exact way Carmen did with Don Jose: by simply looking at him with those dark, bewitching eyes or paralyze him with her lips curled into an amused smirk.

"Wow." Troy murmured as the ending credits rolled. The pizza was gone, there was a pile of crumbs left in the chips' bag, and they both had gotten three refills of soda. His mind was fixated on the ending, where the narrator asked Don Jose if he had a chance to go back, go back to time when Carmen was nothing to him, would he. Don Jose had answered no without any hesitation. "And I thought _Titanic_ had a bittersweet ending to it."

Gabriella shrugged, switching off the TV.

"I feel horrible for Don Jose." he confessed.

She didn't look at him, but he could tell he had her attention. "May I ask why?"

"Well, because, he made a lot of sacrifices. His position, his job, his old life. He gave them all up just so he could be with Carmen. She pretty much spits in his face and say she wants nothing to do with him."

The arched brow rose slightly higher. Her eyes narrowed. "So you're saying that it's all Carmen's fault?"

"Well…yeah." Troy took a moment to think carefully on his answer. "She corrupted him."

"Corrupted him?" Gabriella repeated. She snorted, shaking her head. "Bullshit."

"What part?"

"All of it." She got up from the couch, gathered all the trash and dishes, and walked into the kitchen to dispose of them.

"Why is it bullshit?" Troy asked her.

"Because it is," She didn't join him on the couch when she came back. Instead she leaned against the wall, watching Troy as he watched her. "That's the typical comment an all-macho, anti-feminist would say who believe that the downfall of every man is a woman."

"Well, there was Lady Macbeth." Troy threw in.

"Did she tell him to kill everyone, including his friend, after the king."

Good point. "Well it depends on how you look it. For example, what did you think of the movie?"

"Bullshit."

That seems to be her word of the day, thought Troy, as he asked her. "Why?"

"You can't be serious," She didn't wait for him to reply. She marched right on. "The only the director got right was plot. An obedient solider falls for a fiery gypsy and the relationship ends in tragic. Her feelings for him toned down when he starts to get possessive of her. But they pretty much screw up everything else. Even the death scene. Carmen didn't want to die. Don Jose stabs her out of jealously and angry because he's not enough for her. Because he can't get it into his mind what he wants and she wants are two completely things. What made him really pissed off, though, was how they completely degraded Carmen's character. She's a strong, independent woman. The movie made her into a complete whore who does nothing but spread her legs."

Wow. Just. Wow. Troy stared her in awe, unsure how to process her words, the passion that spilled from her lips as every word came out. "She's a favorite of yours, isn't she?"

"One of my favorites." Gabriella glanced down at her nails, which were apparently more interesting to look at than Troy's face.

"Well, you can always try looking at the positives," he suggested. "I agree with you that the movie wasn't exactly accurate, but there were interesting points I think the director was trying to make."

"Such as?"

"Well," Looks like that's becoming my word of the day. Troy rubbed the nape of his neck as he thought about it. "Maybe Carmen wasn't much of a problem. Or a fault. Maybe all of it can be blamed on power."

"Power?" Gabriella raised her eyebrow.

Troy quickly explained. "Think about it. You said so yourself that Don Jose is a follower, not a leader. He didn't have much experience with anything, much less control, other than following orders and being a good solider. That's his only power: being perfect. Carmen shows up, and there's a shift in power. She seduces him. She bewitched him. His fascination of her turned to want. Want turned to need. He became a slave to the all consuming, wanting emotions that wouldn't leave him alone."

_Answer me this question_, _Troy,_ asked Logic. _Why am I getting a good feeling you're not just talking about Don Jose?_

_Are you trying to say something?_ Evil asked.

Troy couldn't think of a response. He was busy sitting still on the couch, resisting the urge to rub his neck, and trying to play it cool as his cheeks flamed. He lowered his gaze to the ground as Gabriella studied him, unable to handle her steady gaze that increased the temperature of his cheeks.

As soon as his cheeks reduced from burning to warm, he looked back up. Gabriella's face was unreadable as she continued to study him. A second later, her expressionless face was chipped a bit by the appearance of a small smirk hanging on the corner of her lips.

"So you're saying Carmen had control of Don Jose? That she had the power?" For the first time since they left Paco alone, she looked amused.

"Yes," Troy blurted out and instantly wanted to take it back. He wanted to cover his mouth with his hands, tapes, and gags to keep more unnecessary blurs out. But he didn't need to make more of an ass of himself.

"You really seem to show some sympathy for the solider-boy, Bolton."

Troy tried to appear casual as he shrugged, though his red cheeks weren't helping the façade. "You can't help but pity him. He wanted nothing more than to be perfect. He wanted to be the best. Then Carmen turns his world upside down. Despite the trouble that radiates from her, despite her reputation as a heartbreaker, despite the fact she could get in the way of his goals, he can't escape her. He can't forget about her. He can't forget her hair, her smirk, her face. It's like his heart won't allow it."

His words were met with silence. For a second he was sure Gabriella was nodding off his words, half-listening, half-sleeping. To his surprise she was awake and listened to every word.

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience, Bolton." she said.

He ducked his eyes as he blushed. He knew, without looking at her, that her smirk fully spread across her face. When his eyes were met by her bare legs that were suddenly in front of him, he had no other opinion but to look up.

"Tell me more." Gabriella demanded.

"I-" His words died in his throat as she undid her up-do, releasing the raven locks that fell down her back like black liquid waves. He felt like he was back in his dreams.

"Well?" She sat down on his lap. Troy could already feel a boner starting. "Would you say that the girl who has complete control over you is a gypsy?"

In his head, a battle was going on, with logic and evil as the opposing sides. Logic was warming him to be cautious, to watch him his words carefully. Evil had a different idea. Evil was yelling at him to screw words and get it on already, reminding him there was a chance he wouldn't get an opportunity like that again.

Troy wasn't an idiot. Well, at least not completely. He remembered what happened the last time he went too far with his words. Where those words led to. His teeth on the left side still ached whenever he brushed his teeth.

But it was hard to think straight when Gabriella was so close to him, intoxicating him with roses and honeysuckle.

_With a hint of vanilla_, he reminded himself, his mind slowly going out of focus.

"Well?" she asked. "Is she a gypsy?"

"No," he shook his head. He didn't realize how close he was to her until he felt strands of her hair brushing against his cheek. "She's not a gypsy. Not entirely."

He gazed at her face and wondered how it was possible someone could be so beautiful.

"An ET."

She kissed him.

And his whole world exploded in fire.

The heat, the fire it all came back to him. Stronger than before. He felt his mind was wiped completely, free of thoughts of Michael, his dad, perfection. All his demons were being burnt to crisps in the fire while he was engulfed in the flames, not exactly dying but burning him in a way that reminded of him rebirth.

More. More. More.

Just when the fire had reached its peak, just when he was sure he was close to the breaking point, Gabriella pulled away from him.

_NO!_ His body screamed. No.

It took him a full minute to catch his breath. It took twice as long for his mind to come back to planet. It took nearly forever for the dizzying haze sensation to fade.

"Wow." he softly gasped. He then remembered what came after the kiss.

He looked up at Gabriella. Her face was unreadable. He couldn't tell whether it was a good sign or a foreshadowing of something bad in the near future.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I shouldn't have-"

"Open your mouth."

"Wait-what?"

"Open," she leaned in closer. "your mouth."

Hesitantly, wondering if he was being puked, Troy opened his mouth.

Gabriella pulled him back in.

His heart did fifty back-flips, front-flips, and cartwheels, completing ten loops as his tongue met hers.

As much as they touched, boundaries and self-control were thrown out the window. No restraints. Desperation and hunger were the ways of the game. Passion unleashed, eager and hot. Urgent and intense, so brutal it was painful.

In the most delicious way.

He couldn't keep his hands off her. They were everywhere. Her hair, her neck, up and down her arms, her face.

Gabriella pulled back momentary to remove his shirt. Any other time he'd be embarrassed being shirtless in Gabriella's presence. Now he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when he was kissing her. Not when he was caught in intoxicating haze of her lips, her skin, her tongue.

Good God, her tongue. Sweet, pure, holy Mother Mary, her tongue.

He didn't realize how caught up they were in the kisses until he found himself hovering over Gabriella's body that was laid across the couch.

Their lips were doing an action too passionate for kissing. Too raw and wild for such an innocent term. They were doing a tango. They were at war.

One neither of them wanted to lose. Yet at the same time neither of them wanted to end.

"Gabriella," he breathed, pulling back just a bit for the sake of his lungs.

"Don't talk." she demanded before reeling him back in. He was powerless to resist her.

He kissed her in ways he didn't think he had in him. Ways he only knew existed in movies and trashy romance novels. Passionately. Urgently. Hungrily.

As if he was starving and she was the last piece of food in the world.

As if she were sweet oxygen and he needed her to breathe again.

As if the end were near and this was how he chose to live his final moments. Kissing her. Showing her how much he cared. Pouring everything he had in him to show her how much she meant to him.

Gabriella responded to every single of his kisses with deep, addicting, passion that sunk Troy deeper and deeper into the sea of fire.

Deeper and deeper until he was sure he was at the bottom of the sea.

"WHAT THE GODDAMN HELL AM I SEEING!?"

They quickly separated. Troy was wheezing madly like he ran twenty times up and down those stairs. Gabriella was silent as she sat up, brushing back her hair from her eyes, folding her arms against her chest.

_Glad one of us has great lung capacity_, he thought a bit envious, still wheezing. The silence of the room made his wheezing bounce off the walls like loud echoes.

When he was able to catch his breath and gained the tiniest bit of courage, Troy looked up. Instantly the wheezing was knocked out by the deadly, bone-chilling glare of the man's eyes.

Troy recognized him as the young man from the pictures. He was much taller in person. Possibly even taller than Troy. He looked to be 6'5 or 6'6. He was dressed in a mechanic's jumpsuit, smears of oil splashed on his clothes and on his cheek. Up close Troy could see how similar his features were to Gabriella's. Same jet-black hair, with his longish and slick back with some loose strands falling into his eyes. Same dark, nearly black eyes. He looked to be a mixture of both Hispanic and Native American heritage.

Troy had to guess that this was her brother. The half-brother she told him about.

The half-brother who walked in on some guy and his little sister making out in his apartment. With him shirtless. With him on top of his sister.

The half-brother whose black eyes bore holes into Troy, killing him in a thousand and ten different ways with their malicious, murdering intensity.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fucking fuckdity fuck.

"_Me estas jodiendo?"_ he asked Gabriella, who was unmoved by the dark fury storming in his eyes_ "Me estas jugando una maldita broma! Yo, llego a la casa después de una mierda de día, para encontrar a mi hermana casi teniendo sexo en el sofá y a mi hijo dormido a tres puertas de distancia?_"

Gabriella responded in a dry, flat voice. "Si,_ Javier, yo soy una gran puta. Casi ni puedo cerrar las piernas. Mi fuego interior de latina esta rogando ser liberado._"

_"Es mejor que cuides lo que dices antes de que yo-"_

_"De que tu qué?" _Gabriella responded with a sharp glare. "_Me pegues otra vez? De qué me compares con María? Qué me digas que toda la mierda que dices la tenga que tomar como la ley? Bueno pues déjame decirte algo. Te puedes meter un palo por tu ano e irte al infierno._"

"Um?" Troy intervened, hesitantly raising his hand. He flinched, getting a handful of glaring from both the Latina and the Latino. Once he realized he still had his hand up, he put it down. Rubbing his neck, he said sheepishly "I don't speak Spanish."

Gabriella snorted, shaking her head. The mechanic/Gabriella's brother/Troy's possible killer stared at Troy as if he were the most idiotic being in the world.

"We're trying to have a private conversation here, dumbass." he told him as he glared at Gabriella.

Gabriella didn't acknowledge either of them. She was focusing on her nails.

Troy knew he'd be jackass if he let Gabriella take all the blame. "We weren't doing anything crazy," He gestured toward his opened binders, its pages filled with notes from the movie. "We were just doing homework."

Her brother didn't glance at the books. "For what class?" he asked. "French?"

Troy blushed beet red.

Gabriella snorted again, a bit louder this time, redirecting the attention back to her. "_Cálmate Javier, antes de que te de un aneurisma del estrés. No pasó nada, okay? Nada. Solo nos estábamos besando._"**  
><strong>

"_Si claro, estaban mas bien haciendo el amor con ropa. Si hubiera entrado dos minutos después estoy seguro que él se estaría quitando los pantalones y tu estarías en cuatro lamiéndole el pene._"

Gabriella snorted again, looking both annoyed and somewhat amused. "_No seas tan dramático._"

"If I just threw in my two cents here," Troy interrupted. He was quickly silenced by the ice-cold look in Javier's eyes.

"_Quiero que se vaya_." he told Gabriella. "_Ya._"

He gave Troy a look so dark, so chilling it put Jack's glares to shame. He then left without another word.

Troy took his depature and Gabriella's silence as his cue to leave. Mumbling apologies under his breath, he stuffed his things into his backpack and speeded to the door.

"Bolton," He paused momentarily to look over Gabriella. She pointed toward a discarded item. "Forgetting something?"

He followed her finger. His shirt lay in a crumpled heap near the couch.

Oh, dear God.

Troy quickly dropped his stuff, grabbed his shirt, and threw it on. He was sure he was wearing it inside out, but he'd have to deal with. He didn't want to stick around long to risk a second match with Gabriella's brother's wrath.

He had a good feeling he wouldn't survive round two.

Gabriella, to his surprised, escorted him, to the door. Outside the two of them just stood in front of the door, one fidgeting as he tried to figure out his next move, the other lost in her train of thought.

Troy spared a glance over at Gabriella. Her shirt was messed up and the left sleeve was pulled down, exposing a good amount of skin. Her hair was tousles, courtesy of his touchy hands. Her lips were bare and red from too many kisses.

Not bad, Bolton. For once evil was complimenting him instead of insulting.

Troy clamped his lips to keep the automatic 'Shut up' response in. The last thing he needed was to make things worse for himself.

"Gabriella?" When she looked up at him with those smoldering, beautiful browns, it was hard for Troy to remember where he was going with his conversation.

"What do you want, Bolton?" she asked.

At the moment three things came to mind.

He wanted to make things right with her brother. Wanted to explain he didn't mean any disrespect.

He wanted to put back that beautiful smile from earlier that lit up her face.

He wanted to kiss her again. And again and again.

"I-" Gabriella cut him off.

"Don't," she said. "Just don't, Bolton."

"I just-"

"Don't." she repeated and went back inside.

His heart cracked around the edges as he watched her go. Those cracks ached in a slow, painful throb as the door shut quietly behind her.

**First off a very gracious shout out to Isarodas10 for the Spanish translations. You rock. And to my readers, consider this VERY long chapter as a belated Valentine's day's gift. To my ET readers, you guys rock and I can only hope that next chapter won't be so long or take forever to update. ****  
><strong>

**Peace out **


	24. Chapter 24

**ET Chapter 24: To be or not be Forsaken**

Dear God.

Dear God.

Dear God. Dear God. Dear _flipping_ God.

The phrase bounced around Troy's mind on a rotating loop as he drove home.

He was stunned by the sight of nightfall when he left Gabriella's apartment. It was one in the afternoon when he arrived.

_Guess time really does fly_, thought the young man half-absently.

_Especially when you're passing time with some smooching_, said evil.

_Not helping!_

There was no way they spent that long kissing.

They only kissed for a minute. Or two. Three, tops.

On the other hand, he couldn't deny that he wasn't paying attention to time. The second their lips met, it was as if the world and everything in it slipped away into oblivion.

They were so lost in each other, time was unimportant. For all he knew, they could have spent an hour kissing.

Troy shook his head, got into his car, and drove home, where he was greeted by Jeffery's small smile.

"Good evening, Master Troy," he greeted. "You were gone for quite some time."

Troy was stuck on an explanation. Today was a half day at school, so students got to leave early. On top of that Matsui called for a faculty meeting, meetings which were known to last most of the day. Which meant no basketball practice, and, more importantly, no Jack.

Ordinarily Troy would spend his half days dozing off in bed, trying to get back the lost sleep. But he took the opportunity to go see Gabriella.

He couldn't tell Jeffery though. The man was more so like a father figure to Troy than a butler. He looked after him in ways Jack never did. If he knew Troy was in a rough neighborhood to see a girl who made quite an impression on the Bolton estate, Troy knew he'd be in for a series of lectures followed by thumps to the back of his head.

"I had a few things to take care of." Like apologizing, getting around by two Montezes, kissing, ending with him getting kicked out.

Suffice to say he had an interesting day.

Troy's face went hot as he thought about the kissing. The hot kissing, the searing touches. He hoped Jeffery wouldn't look too much into his redden face. "I had a lot of things to do."

Jeffery looked at him with a gleam in his eye, as if he somehow knew what those things include. Troy decided it was the best time to change the subject.

"Did anything happen while I was gone?"

"More than several things actually. Your mother sends you the usual seven-dozen package load from her travel," The man smiled a bit, catching the eye-roll Troy was trying to hide. "This week she bought you a number of items from Milan."

_Instead of a note or even a phone-call_, Troy thought with another eye-roll. _Thanks mom. _

Jeffery continued on. "You have a total of thirteen messages from your friends. Miss Evans wanted me to remind you of your annual weekend at their lake house after winter break,"

Of course Sharpay would. Never mind the fact she told him twenty times already.

"And…your father has a visitor."

Troy was nodding off most of what Jeffery was saying, dismissing them, until he noticed how Jeffery's voice trailed off, tinged with unhidden disapproval. "Who is it?"

He heard the laughter before he saw her. The same husky, raspy laughter he had grown up listening to through a series of dinners, meetings at the country club, and parties.

_No way_, he thought in disbelief.

His suspicions were confirmed as she came down the stairs, walking unsteady steps as if both her legs suffered from limps, trying unsuccessfully to straighten out her rumpled clothes. Her sleek black hair was disheveled, as if it was in a battle of a hands-on tornado. Her pale-porcelain complexion was stamped with thick hickeys going from her neck, which sported about several, going down into her chest. Her lips were wiped clean of her lipstick and swollen red from what Troy could guess too many kisses.

Mrs. Lincoln, wife to Mr. Lincoln, who has been his dad's best friend since college. Mrs. Lincoln, who was his mom's business partner. Mrs. Lincoln, who has been his mom's best friend since high school.

_No fucking way. _

His dad soon came down the stairs in nothing but his favorite red robe, holding a half-empty glass of Jack Daniels. Swallowing his drink, he tossed the glass against the wall, not caring of the mess he caused. He grabbed the woman into his arms and attacked her neck with kisses, paying no attention to her laughing protests.

"Jack, stop it," she pleaded half-heartedly. She then moaned as he kissed her sweet spot, titling her head back, granting him more access. "I have so much work to do."

"It can easily wait till later." He nibbled at her ear.

Mrs. Lincoln both laughed and moaned. "That may be so, but what about dinner? It's mine turn to cook tonight."

"There's this wonderful thing called take-out." Jack un-buttoned her blouse, giving the two observers an unwanted view of her ice-blue frilly bra.

"Well I suppose I could-Troy!"

Without even flinching, Troy watched as Mrs. Lincoln pulled away from his dad and fixed her shirt, her face flushing from pleasure to embarrassment.

At least she had the decency to look embarrassed. His dad stood still and stared back at them, his eyes cool and unforgiving.

"I-we-this shouldn't-"Mrs. Lincoln cut herself off, realizing her rambling was worsening things. "It was just a friendly business meeting. And such."

"Emphasis on the _friendly_." Jeffery dryly commented. Mrs. Lincoln flinched. Jack looked like he wanted to struggle the man with his own tie.

"I'll just…bye." Grabbing her purse and jacket from Jeffery's hands, she couldn't walk out the door fast enough.

His dad didn't acknowledge the scene that just took place. He was too much of a bastard to do such a thing. Turning to Jeffery, he said "I suggest, unless you rather join your fellow bums-of-ghetto-brothers at the unemployment line, you stop staring and do your job. Clean up this mess, have Doris and the girls change my sheets, and grab me another bottle of Jack Daniels."

"His sheets" meaning his bed. Meaning the room he shared with Troy's mom. He didn't even have to decency to do his nasty business with his best friend's wife in one of the guest rooms.

Jack scowled when he turned to Troy, displeased at his son's lingering presence. It was a scowl Troy knew had been on Jack's face since the day he was born. "Shouldn't you be somewhere?"

Troy scowled right back at him, feeling anger and irritation, growing and twisting inside him. "Shouldn't you be faithful?"

He couldn't tell which one was more stunned by his remark. His dad who froze in place while heading back to his office or Jeffery, who looked up while he was sweeping up the broken glass.

Which was? He wasn't sure. He did, though, know which one that gave him a hard, stinging slap across the face.

Troy sucked in his breath as the blood rushed to his cheek, welcoming the familiar pain.

His dad pointed a warning finger at him, and it took all of Troy's willpower not to spit in his face. "You better be thanking your fucking lucky stars that I'm too buzzed to put up with your bullshit. Otherwise I'd get out my belt and show you what happens to smart-asses."

Troy stared at his dad for a second or two, gritting his teeth hard to hold in all the insults and remarks trying to break free. He finally looked down, unable to withstand those hollow, glassy eyes that stared back at him.

"Will one of you goddamn fucking idiots get me a fucking drink?" Jack roared his voice loud and scary enough to scare away the birds that were hanging on the roof. "God knows I'm praying you enough."

"Not nearly enough." Jeffery murmured after Jack left.

Jeffrey turned to Troy, silent as he examined him, facial expression nearly expressionless if it weren't for his eyes that gave him away. Eyes that told Troy, if he had it his way, Jack Bolton would be serving twenty years for child abuse. Eyes that told him if he didn't need the money so much or if Jack didn't have something grave over his head, he'd tell him where to stick it with a well-deserved punch. Eyes that told him if he really wanted, if he was in grave fear that his life was in danger, and then he would take Troy away.

That was always the message Jeffery's eyes told him when he looked at him like that. Troy only had to say the word, and he'd be far away from his hellhole.

Every time he saw it, Troy was tempted to say yes. He wanted more than anything to be far away from here, from Jack, from the ghosts that loved to torment him, from the scoffing prison his house was becoming.

And every time he remembered the consequences it would mean for not just him, but for Jeffery as well, if Jack found them. It's not even if; when he found them, Troy knew leaving would be one of the biggest regrets of his life.

Sighing, he gently shook his head and gave Jeffery a small smile.

Jeffery looked disappointed, but he didn't comment on his decision. If they were anyone else who knew why he couldn't just leave, it was him. "Shall I send you an ice-pack with some Tylenol, sir?"

"Advil would be better. With some lemon-twist water."

"I'll have Marilia bring it up."

Troy nodded and took the elevator upstairs. Instead of going to his room, where a large pile of homework, study-guides, and papers awaited him, he went to his dark room, deciding to pour all his frustration into his pictures.

There was no question he was pissed. Actually, he wasn't pissed. He was furious. He knew his dad was capable of doing really slimy, unbelievable things, but he never would have guesses that he could stoop down so low. He couldn't believe he would actually do that to his mother. With her god-damn best friend, wife to his best friend.

Yet as on the other hand, should he really be surprised? As in honestly be surprised?

After he had hung up five newly-developed pictures on the line, he stared at the wall blankly, his head whirling with thoughts.

Should he really be surprised that his dad would do something so low? Considering the fact he had done plenty of low things in the part. Troy definitely had the scars to prove that fact.

Sighing in frustration, Troy ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

His parents had the ideal perfect marriage: high sweethearts since junior year, his dad varsity Wildcat captain and his mom head cheerleader. Their love story continuing onto U of A, where they both applied, because really? They were no other person quite as perfect as they were to each other. Fast forward to sophomore year, the year Michael was conceived and his dad was forced to change his career plans, switching from playing on the court to coaching. Yet even then, they happened to maintain the perfect couple status with the grand wedding they threw in the spring.

And now, with more than twenty years of marriage, their friends still believed that they were the same perfect couple that produced the perfect family.

It was clear to Troy that their marriage, in like many things in the house, was all smoke and mirrors. He wondered when exactly that bright, passionate spark his mom always said that kept them together through the years finally burnt out.

Troy wondered if there was a chance his mother was in on the secret. If there was the slightest chance that her husband wasn't as perfect as he seemed, but refused to acknowledge it for her sake.

It wouldn't surprise him if that was the chance. Lucille Bolton was known for not confronting matters if they were too dark or threw off the perfect family façade she spent years building.

She didn't speak up when his dad was pushing an already exhausted Mike to his limits.

She didn't question the heavy liquor reeking from Jack's breath or the glassiness of his pupils.

She didn't say a word about the bruises that were seen through Troy's makeup, despite the several layers he coated on. She didn't say anything about the scars or the number of painkillers he swallowed down.

The situation was so messed up, so sad, it was almost laughable. Laughable in a completely depressing, make-you-wanna-cry way.

_Why should you try so hard to be perfect when your so-called "perfect" parents aren't even close to decent_, asked his logic side. For once he said like an ally instead of a pain, making a very valid point.

One he always knew, deep down, but didn't want to think about for the sake of his head.

And now…

Troy stared at the pictures, paying close attention to the ones in the center.

The one on the left was of Gabriella engrossed in her book, a cigarette hanging from her lips. The one of the left was of her releasing a cloud of smoke. The one in the center was his personal favorite. It was of her and the wolf from the zoo looking into the camera, their expressions so similar it was like they were the same person.

Gently Troy traced Gabriella's profile, his mind going back to the many conversations they had that afternoon and the many kisses they shared.

* * *

><p>After a long, hot shower that did little to settle her mind, Gabriella threw on a white tank top and plaid boy-shorts. She then ran a comb through her damp hair and fixed into a loose braid.<p>

Since the shower did little to relief her mind, she decided to turn to the only place that could easily ease her mind like dancing without requiring much movement: her journal.

Lying flat on her stomach, curled up in her bed, she let everything that was bottled be released in purple ink and paper, unleashing the confused bafflement page after page.

_I can say that my brain was still dazed from the alcohol I drank at the Underground last night. Christ knows I still have the lingering hangover to confirm that I was indeed wasted. _

_I can blame it on the heavy coffee foams I inhaled, thanks to work. _

_Hell, I will even admit that I hadn't a good lay in awhile and needed a fill. _

Funny. Even in her journals, the paragraphs looked like nothing but complete bullshit.

_Jesus._ Gabriella bit her bottom lip, brushing back loose strands of her hair that were getting into her eyes.

_Maybe it was because I was high from the Carmen movie._

_I just looked at him and….and-the only thing I can say is that I kind of felt like Carmen at the moment when she was Don Jose were alone, living in their private bubble that kept everything else and everyone out. I felt like I was seeing that thing that made him stand out right there, staring right back at me, drawing me to him. _

_So I kissed him. I teased him for a bit to get a blush out of him, which I will admit is one of the things I like about him. And then I kissed him. _

_And then…and then…_

Dear friggering Christ, what the hell was wrong with her? Writing was just like dancing to her: effortless, natural, something she could easily do without having to think.

When Javier left, she poured all her energy into dancing and writing. She poured every angry thought, every angst emotion into every step and page. After the accident that went down in October, she spent the nights poring every into her journals.

_And…all I can say is fuck._

_And I mean that fuck as oh my fuck in the worst possible way. _

_I mean I'm not Maria. Scratch that. I KNOW I'm definitely not Maria. But I'm also not a prude either. I've hooked up with guys, sometimes was involved with more than one, and few times a girl when I was really drunk. Basically, I've been kissed before. Plenty of times. Most were decent, some cringe-worthy forgettable, and few that were memorable. _

_Like Rob who, I have to hand it to him, really does know how to make a girl feel hot with his tongue. Julio from the Ungerground, who's good on his feet as he is with his lips. That very delicious French native, Gabriel who gives French Kissing a very delicious definition. _

_Yet even with those amazing kisses, I never felt that thing before. That weird, tingly thing. Not even with Rob. And that weird tingly thing scares the shit out of me. _

_It scares me because, no matter how much I don't want to admit it, no matter how much I really wish it wasn't the case, it was good. Really good. Good as in the word "good" doesn't seem to serve what happened justice. Good as in the kind of too-good-to-be that get easily get someone hooked with just kiss. _

_This is why I'm so scared. A kiss that good can easily get someone addicted. It can make a person want more and more until it completely consumes them. _

_I know for a good fact that addictions, if not handled correctly or too powerful, can mean a person's downfall. It can render you powerless. Dependent. Weak. _

A knocked on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Gabriella," Anita knocked on the door. "Can I come in?"

She tucked her pen into the page she left off, closed the book, and sat up in her bed. She stared at the door for a second or two before saying "If I say no?"

Anita opened the door and walked in smiling with no shame.

Gabriella rolled her eyes.

"Don't give me that face. Especially when I come baring gifts." Anita presented a chocolate-stuffed-and-drizzled French toast.

Gabriella rolled her eyes again. "Did you make that?"

Anita's hesitation gave her away. Rolling her eyes once more, Gabriella turned back to her journal, dismissing her. Before she could get down a word, Anita snatched her journal.

"Anita," Gabriella didn't turn other because she knew there was a high chance she'd slap her. She was that irritated. Irritated and confused. "Give me back my fucking book."

"I will as soon as you eat," she told her. "You can't let this little argument keep you from eating."

"There's this new invention called take-out. You should try it." Gabriella informed her with a smirk.

Un-amused, Anita placed her journal on her dresser, in front of Mulan. She placed the French toast right in front of her, penetrating Gabriella's vision with the whiff of chocolate, vanilla, and cinnamon.

After staring at the girl in irritation, wishing she wasn't pregnant so she could get smacked, Gabriella finally took the food.

This was Javier's special French Toast that was, other than chocolate, her favorite dessert. Oozing with two bars of Cadbury chocolate he melted inside the bread, sprinkled with cinnamon and vanilla, topped off with whipped cream and pieces of Cadbury. Growing up, her brother made this on special occasions, believing if it was made on a regular basis it'd lose its special taste. He made it on her birthday, the dance rituals where she wowed the audience, the dance rituals he had to miss for his UFC matches.

She used to be able to finish the French toast ten seconds late. Now, every bite that sank down her throat felt like heavy cement.

Five minutes later, she was finally done and swallowed the last bite down, resisting the urge to lick remaining chocolate and cinnamon off the plate. She handed Anita back the plate.

"Now what that so hard?"

Gabriella glared at her. "Anita, you know damn well I'm one for cutting through the bullshit and getting to the point. So allow me to cut to the chase. Javier told you about what happened, didn't he?"

"In a very loud, two-hour long phone call." Anita informed.

Sweet Jesus, she could feel a migraine coming on. Her temples were vibrating in irritation. Gabriella groaned, reaching into her drawer for her cigarettes. Then it hit her that Anita was pregnant, and pregnant women can't around smoke.

_Damn it_, she thought, trading her cigarettes for gum. Popping two pieces into her mouth, she chewed.

"Is this the same Bolton you told me you were doing a project with?" Anita asked. "The same one you call Pup?"

Gabriella chewed her gum, wishing she was having a cigarette right now.

"I see." She could practically feel Anita's lips curling up.

_"No fue nada del otro mundo."_

"_No fue nada del otro mundo, dice ella. Nada del otro mundo y ella estaba besando con lengua al chico que, aparentemente quiere matar de quinientos mil maneras diferentes. Pero tienes razón no fue nada del otro mundo_,"Anita said. "You know to most people if a girl and guy do the tongue-twist tango, it's considered a pretty big deal."

Tongue-twist tango? Gabriella blew out a big, pink bubbled that was deflated in a second. Unfazed, she licked it all back and chewed. "Sure, it would. If this was the fifties, guys were saying "Gee golly," and girls were wearing poodle skirts."

"I happen to like poodle skirts, Miss Smarty Pants."

Gabriella snorted.

Anita rolled her eyes, joined Gabriella on her bed, and asked "So how was it?"

Jesus. What was this actually happening to her? Didn't she suffer enough?

Gabriella could feel that evil migraine smashing pain against her skull like heavy hammers. She really wished she could smoke. "Can we please not do this?"

Anita smirked at her, leaned against the wall, and waited patiently, having no intact of leaving anytime soon.

Yeah, Fate definitely wanted to torture her some more.

"We are not talking about this." Gabriella said.

Anita arched her brow questioningly. "Was it that bad?"

_What was it that bad?_ Gabriella chewed her gum slowly as she thought about the question.

There were many different words she could use to describe that kiss. She wasn't sure bad was one of them. It seemed, despite how much it confused her, harsh to describe it that way.

The kiss was unexpected. It was definitely fucking weird, there's no question about that. Strange in a skin-crawling, body-chilling way. Undoubtedly and unforgettably awful in a, God help her, not so terribly nasty way.

Dear Christ, this whole thing was just one big fucked-up mess. And one monster of a migraine.

_Damn you, Bolton_, she though angrily.

She was brought back to the present moment as Anita laid a hand on her back, touching the un-clothed part that her tank top didn't cover, gently rubbing it. She was a bit uneasy when she turned around and saw the smile on Anita's face, despite it being soft.

"I know that look," Anita said. "It's the look of someone who received what may be the best kiss from the most out-there guy she met. A kiss that she doesn't even know what to make of it because it's unlike anything she ever experienced in her life.

Gabriella glared at Anita as she chewed her gum, chewing it so hard it was like she was picturing the gum was Troy's head. Anita was lucky Gabriella was mindful of the baby's health because she definitely would have blown a huge smoke cloud into her face.

"You know that glare, along with your silence, is speaking volume."

Gabriella gave her the finger, blowing another big bubble.

Anita sighed, shaking her head. "Gabriella, look at me," She looked intently at the back of Gabriella's head until she finally gave in. "How do you feel about the boy?"

Dear Jesus Flipping Christ. First Javier wanted to talk to her about her feelings. Then Rob wanted to get inside her head when all she wanted to do was fuck. Now Anita wanted her to open up. Since when had her life turned into a Dr. Phil sit-down?

"He's a pup." she said simply, as if there was no more that could be said about him.

"What else?"

_A pain in the ass. And a goddamn idiot_, Gabriella thought, but she was too tired to tell Anita so.

Sighing again, Anita said "I don't mean what he is, Gabriella. I mean how you feel about him?"

Dear Christ. She'd much rather have that sit-in with Dr. Phil than continue this pointless conversation. Hell, she'd rather face Tweety again than continue with this shit.

"Gabriella," Anita refused to back down. She proved to be just as stubborn as a Montez. "How do you feel about him?"

How did she feel about Bolton?

She honestly felt annoyed by him a good half of the time. Particularly during his idiotic episodes. She was entertained by him forty percent of the time when his idiotic episodes leaned more on the comical side. Sometimes, even embedded in the other times, she-

Hot, overwhelming sensations flooded her body and burnt her skin like a hot flash. She felt light-headed by the sudden feeling.

_Dear. God._

"I think you like Gabriella. In fact I think you like him a lot."

_Like him? Bolton? _

Before she could help herself, Gabriella pulled herself away from Anita's touch, feeling unexpectedly and very much pissed. "Don't be stupid," she scowled her words sharp and biting. "I don't _like_ Bolton. I don't like anyone."

Anita didn't say anything, proving she was starting to know Gabriella well. She knew why the girl did things the way she does them. She knew the way her mind worked. Which was why she moved closer to Gabriella and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Gabriella, it's all in your head," she told her. "There's nothing wrong with liking someone. Just like there's nothing wrong with letting someone-the right someone-in."

_Britney Spears' Work Bitch_ ended on her iDock, moving onto the next song on her shuffle. _Off to The Races_ by Lana Del Ray.

The beautiful singing behind the sad story reminded Gabriella of Maria.

_My old man is a bad man_

_But I can't deny the way he holds my hand_

_And he grabs me, he has me by my heart_

_He doesn't mind I have a Las Vegas past_

_He doesn't mind I have a L.A crass way about me_

_He loves me with every beat of his cocaine heart_

Beautiful and sad. Just like her mother.

"_I did good, papi." Maria smiled. _

_Gabriella knew she shouldn't be out there. Even at seven, she was a smart girl. _

_Whenever men came over, especially Scorpion, they had to stay in their room. Javier didn't trust any of them, but he was the one he trusted least of all. _

_Not that Gabriella could blame him. Scorpion was a man of few words, most of those words communicated through his dark, close-to-black eyes that were any of anything. Of warmth, of empathy, of feeling. Just hollow and empty. _

_His piercing eyes were one of the things that made him scary. It didn't hurt that he was big, not a fat wide. More so like a football player way that can easily break a bone._

_It was different when he came over to the apartment. The smell was always the same when he was there: pot smoke, sex, and cocaine. _

_But this time, there was a different smell. Chinese take-out. _

No way had Maria got that for us_, Gabriella thought. She could count the number of times on one hand that Maria left them something in the fridge that wasn't moldy, old, or crumbs. _

_She looked over at her brother, who was fast asleep beside her, quietly climbed off the bed, and slipped out the door. _

_Quiet as a mouse, she crotched down by the corner, hiding her from plate sight while giving her a good of the living room. _

_They were already done fooling around. The air was tinted with the heavily, musky smell of flesh. Scorpion, dressed in nothing but his black boxers, was seated on the couch, smoking a cigarette. His dark skin was covered in a series of black-inked tattoos, his hair was completely shaved off, and head titled back. _

_Maria was in the kitchen, pulling out a streaming plate of Chinese take-out from the microwave, then pulling out the empty coffee tin she used as a piggy-bank. She threw on her lacy black thong. _

_Gabriella shuddered at the sight. _

"_I mean I know I did good. Obviously," Maria looked over her shoulder to give him a wink. Gabriella rolled her eyes at the smugness rolling off her tongue. "But I really did good."_

_Scorpion watched her as she placed the Chinese food in front of her. She emptied the can, dropping a dozen hundred dollar bills and two fifties. _

_Taking a long drag of his cigar, Scorpion barely glanced at the money. He focused on Maria. "That's all?"_

_Maria nodded. _

"_You didn't give anybody a free pass, did you?" _

_Maria chuckled. "Don't be ridiculous." _

_Scorpion stared at her. _

_The longer he stared, the more Gabriella could see Maria's smile became less ridiculous and more panicky. _

"_I swear, papi." she said. _

_Gabriella watched Maria climb onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her naked chest against his. _

"_You know that's only one man that gives free access to my goodies." She smiled before leaning in for a kiss. _

Bamf-a-rama_. Gabriella nearly gagged. _

_Maria was so lost in the kiss, slipping her tongue inside his mouth and smiling against his lips, that she didn't see the stinging slap that knocked her right to the ground. _

_Any trace of disgust was wiped away instantly by the slap. The sight paralyzed Gabriella, making her unable to move or look away. _

"_You must really think I'm stupid, don't you?" Scorpion demanded. _

_Maria whimpered, pressing a hand against her swollen cheek. _

_Scorpion scowled and kicked her in the stomach. Hard. _

"_Ugh." Maria cried out in pain. _

"_You think you're a clever girl, don't you? You think I wouldn't find out about you hanging around Carlos." _

_Carlos. Gabriella knew the man. He was the only other man who was just as creepy-maybe, even a bit more than-Scorpion. _

"_It was just a blow-job. I swear," Maria pleaded. "And he paid me with a quart of coke. So it wasn't a freebie. I was paid."_

"_You goddamn little bitch."_

"_It wasn't a freebie, papi. I swear. You're the only one I love. You're the only one who gets me for free-"_

_Scorpion silenced her with a punch to the jaw that knocked her back down. _

_Gabriella swallowed a nervous lump. _

"_Course I can get you for me. Any damn man can get you for free. God knows you're fucking cheap," Scorpion barked at her. "You really are a piece of work, Maria. I take of care. I'm good to you. All I ask is that you're completely honest with me, and loyal to me. Christ knows I could have easily let you rot after Riff dumped your ass."_

_Maria whimpered, sounding like she was close to tears. Gabriella wasn't sure if it was because of the insults or at the jab of her former love. _

"_I take pity of this poor, sixteen year old girl with a kid. A baby for Christ's sake. So out the goodness of my heart, I take her under my wing. She's beautiful, she's young, so I thought she could be useful. I get her a better-paying job. I let her keep a generous twenty-five percent of her earnings. I supply her all the drugs she needs. And then I find out from some clown that she's been messing around with others. People I didn't say you can fuck. Practically spitting in the face of that generosity."_

"_It was just a blow-job. I needed a hit. It was a bad week-"_

_Scorpion got her up on her feet by yanking her hair. "I'm your supplier, bitch. You got that? Your one and only supplier. The next time I find out you're fucking around with Carolos or any other clown without my say-so, a bad week is going to be the least of your problems."_

"_Please." Her voice cracked. Tears streamed leaked from her eyes like a broken faucet, starting at a slow pace before falling hard._

_Scorpion glared at her for a second longer, tossed her to the ground as if she were nothing, and collected his things. _

"_No!" Maria bellowed, watching him heading to the door. She crawled over to him and wrapped her arms around his legs, clinging to him in a desperate manner like that of a child. "Please don't leave me, papi. I love you. I love you." _

_Gabriella knew that Javier was behind her. She felt his presence before he covered her mouth and carried her back to their room, locking the door behind them. She could still hear mother's sobbing and begging. _

"_What part of "'stay in room when ass comes over'" do you not understand?" Javier asked, pissed off. _

_Gabriella didn't respond. Her mind was still stuck on what happened. How weak her mother was. She crawled on the bed, grabbed her Barbie pillow, and held it tight against her chest. _

_Javier noticed her silence and was alarmed by it, his anger completely forgotten. He sat beside her, and pulled her against his chest. She nestled her head against him, her head spinning with thoughts. _

"_Javi?"_

"_Yeah, kid?" _

"_Why does she let him do that to her?"_

_Javi sighed. He did that deep, down to the bone sigh that made you feel instantly tired when it was released. "Because our mother is weak."_

_Gabriella looked up at him. Javi brushed back her hair, offering her a small, half smile that came and left his lips. _

"_Maria's too weak to take care of herself. She's always been that way. The old man who brought her here took care of her before he left her. My father took care of her. Now Scorpion's the new care-taker. But with him, it's different, Ella. He's not just a care-taker. He's her boss. He has complete control of her, so he can do whatever he wants to her. Love her, beat her, share her. Whatever. It doesn't matter."_

_That didn't sound like love at all. Not like the kind of love she read in her books or seen in Disney movies. That sounded more like the type of life the characters tried to avoid. _

"_Do you think she really loves him?" Gabriella wondered. _

_Javi thought carefully of his answer. "I think," he finally said. "That she knows she definitely needs him. A hell lot more than he needs her. She thinks she's the only one, but the truth is there are more than four other girls he's…well handling. Still, she knows it's too late to walk away because he has control over her. I also think she knows that he's her only provider. I know that she depends on him. So, it's possible that she's convinced that what she has is love."_

A bad kind of love_, Gabriella thought. "I'll never be like that."_

_Javi smiled, patting her head. "I know you won't, Ella. You're nothing like Maria. You're so strong. You won't let anything-even messed-up emotions-make you weak. _

"_I love you, papi." she could hear mother saying over and over again. "Please don't leave me."_

"Gabriella?" Anita called out. "Gabriella?"

She spared a quick glance at Anita before returning her vision back to her dresser, the spot she had been staring while her mind was away.

"You know why she cared so much about the bastard?" Gabriella didn't bother to wait for a response. "He was Riff's-Javier's father's-best friend. Besides my brother, he was the only link she had left of him."

Anita was silent. Gabriella wasn't sure if it was because she was stunned or this wasn't new information to her and she just wanted Gabriella to tell it.

"According to Javier, Scorpion wasn't even that bad in the beginning. He came over to the apartment a lot after Riff bailed to make sure Maria didn't drink herself to an early grave. Or OD'd. To get in the middle of things when Maria was highly stoned with cocaine and wanted to have Javi's head. He protected him. He was able to keep her at bay. He kept an eye on Javi whenever she had to work a late shift at the strip club. He also did fun things with him. Took him to the park. Got him into boxing, because he felt everyone deserved the right to punch. Javi told me it was almost like having a dad."

"Then what happened?"

Gabriella shrugged. "Scorpion thought Maria was wasting her all her talent stripping and grinding against perverts for money. Around the time, he had started his own business. In two months, the business went from being a small thing in the neighborhood to a very big thing, bringing in lots of money. He had a soft spot for her. Well, at least back then. He told her she could share in the success, be his little queen if she wanted in. Maria accepted. And things were good for a while. She quit her job, got to spend most of her days sleeping and drinking. Scorpion handled the bills, the food, got her designer clothes, and took them out to expensive dinners at fancy restaurants. And just like that," She snapped her fingers. "It all went away,"

"Javier told me it happened a year or two before I came along. It was after the three of them had stuffed their faces at some place in SoHo. Scorpion kissed my brother goodnight and sent him off to bed. He woke later to hear them arguing, and came out to investigate. Scorpion needed Maria to do him a favor. He got mixed up in some bad business and needed a way out. He needed our mother to soften the dude up, if she knew what he meant."

Anita cocked her head, listening intently.

"Maria refused, completely offended. She told him, and this I find so fucking funny, that she wasn't some cheap whore. Scorpion didn't like that. He didn't like that one bit. He said if she really loved him, she'd do him this favor. She yelled she wouldn't do it. Scorpion then slapped her so hard in the face that Javier flinched. While she was lying on the floor crying, Scorpion said he could see why Riff left her. She was nothing more than a cheap thrill that couldn't deliver. He was nearly out the door till Maria stopped him by shouting. Shouting yes, she'll do it. Yes, she loved him. She'd do anything for him. She begged him not to leave her,"

Gabriella laughed her soft and brittle laughter that made it clear she wasn't laughing because she found it funny. "And so the great love story ended. Maria's prince turned into a devil. It started off with one guy. Then one guy became three. Three became ten. Ten became more, way more. Pretty soon my mother went from taking off her clothes for her clients to fucking them. And all for three reasons." Gabriella shot one finger up. "For drugs because she was always in need for a fix," Her second finger shot up. "For money." Her third finger went up. "Her desperate need to have someone in her life. Even if he gave her more black eyes than kisses."

Anita took a deep breath and let it out slowly, taking in everything she learned. After a minute or two, she finally said "Gabriella, your mother….she wasn't a right woman."

Gabriella snorted. That was the understatement.

"Let me finish," Anita said. "She wasn't right. She did horrible things all for the wrong reasons. She never stood up for herself. She never decided to take matters into her own hands. She trusted the wrong people. But you are not her. Gabriella, you've never been her and never will be. You're strong. You don't rely on anyone but yourself. You're independent. But I feel like that wall of yours is going to be your downfall."

"The fuck are you talking about?" Gabriella demanded.

"The wall you use to keep everyone out. Your way of holding everyone at an arm-length. Even Rob and I are held at arm length with you half the time, and you know it. You're so scared if you let someone in that you'll like it. The more you like it, the more you rely on it. Until you're completely attached."

Gabriella scowled at him. "You're starting to sound like him."

Anita must have known who he was because she was suddenly smirking. "Maybe he's right."

"So I don't want to get attached, fucking sue me," Gabriella looked right into Anita's eyes. "I'm staying in the dump of a town until May comes. The second I have my diploma, I'm off to California. With no fucking attachments chaining me to here."

"Even if that attachment could be different from the others. Even if he could be one of the best things for you."

Gabriella opened her mouth and then closed it when she couldn't come up with a rebuttal. Better to go out silently than humiliatingly. She looked away and blew another bubble.

Anita said to her, sighing "I swear stubbornness is a genetic trait in the Montez clan. Makes me fear for Paco's teenage years, along with this little guy's." She rubbed her swollen stomach affectionately.

Gabriella shrugged.

Anita sighed again, kissed her cheek, and brushed back her hair. "_Escucha a tu corazón, Gabriella. Escúchalo y síguelo. Estarás sorprendida a donde te llevará._" _  
><em>

After offering her nugget of wisdom and one last smile, Anita left. As soon as she was gone, Gabriella spat out her wad of gum and took out a much-needed cigarette.

Inhaling deeply, she blew a massive cloud of smoke up to the ceiling.

_Ay Dios Mio_.

Her phone started going on, blaring Katy Perry's song and causing a mini earthquake inside her drawer. She retrieved it, seeing she had a new text.

**I really hope you didn't get into too much trouble with your brother because of me. I'm really sorry**

Unknown number. Mention of her brother. It didn't take much to put two and two together.

The natural thing for her to do would be ignore the text. It would be easier to pretend this afternoon was nothing more than a weird, confusing dream.

However, her body didn't seem to be in sync with her mind. Her fingers went to the message menu and typed away.

**Don't worry about it. My brother's the typical Latino brother: crazily overprotective papa bear that's ready to tear a guy's eyes out for even looking at me **

Five seconds later, she got a new text.

**Is it a bad thing that I can't forget about the kiss?**

Bad? No. Annoyingly and extremely inconvenient? Yes.

_Definitely fucking yes_, she thought.

Ten seconds passed before she got a new message.

**Can I be honest with you?**

**I guess **

The next text took a whole minute.

**I really, really liked the kiss. A lot. Way more than I would have liked. I can't stop thinking about it or you**

Sweet Jesus, no. Please don't do this to her.

**I really like you, Gabriella**

Her stomach did a kick, ready to send Javier's French toast up.

**I really, really like you**

In situations like this, whenever the hookup wanted more than what was given, she'd easily pull aside and cut him loose.

But with Bolton, that opinion didn't seem to be available to her. Or at least not quite as easy.

**I know**

…**so what does this mean? **

For an idiot, he really did know how to make a girl think hard with a question.

**It means…that I need space. Space and time. **

She didn't expect him to reply. Hardly even guy replied to a text that had the following words "space" and "time" attached to him. Just alone brought a several minute hesitant text. Together they might as well be the kiss of death.

Bolton, once again, proved her, replying in less than five seconds.

**Whatever you need. I can wait**

Somehow she believed him.

**Thank you **

**AN: once again shout out to isarodas10 for her translations and to my readers for their awesome support, reviews, and questions. you guys rock. **


	25. Chapter 25

**ET chapter 25: Sherlock Pup and the Eager Beaver **

Space and time, those were what she wanted. May even be what she needed. So he was giving her that.

Seemed easy enough

Too bad it was so damn hard.

Troy groaned, reading the text message for the thousandth time in a row.

He resisted the urge to text her. To tell her he watched _Carmen Jones_, a modern interpretation of the play, which he preferred to the movie. To tell her it was amazing. To tell her she reminded him a lot of Carmen Jones, who put her freedom above anything else, including love.

On second thought maybe it was good thing he was giving her space. She was already edging around the word "feelings" If anything more was brought into the equation, then he might as well pull a trigger.

Thankfully he had other things to keep him occupy in the meantime.

And he had Sharpay who reminded him of an important one the next day at school.

"Have any idea who set up your girlfriend?" Appearing out of nowhere, clad in signature pink and sparkles, Sharpay handed him one of the two steaming-hot, large French vanillas she picked up from Dunkin Donuts.

Troy accepted the drink but frowned at her. "She's not my girlfriend."

"Details." She rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee as they walked into the school building.

_Pest. _Troy shook his head.

Chad soon appeared to his left, walking in sync with his friends. He ruffled Sharpay's hair, messing up her bun, and fist-bumped Troy. "What's up, Captain? Blondie Barbie?"

Rolling her eyes, Sharpay murmured something unintelligent under her breath. Troy smiled at his best friend and said "Hey Chad."

"So you find out who framed your girlfriend?"

_What?!_

Troy's first reaction as to spit out the large gulp of coffee he had just taken in if it wasn't already halfway down his throat, resulting in him nearly choking while droplets of coffee leaked from his mouth.

His friends were no help to him whatsoever. Instead of aiding a friend in need, they were laughing their heads off at his expense, which had him plotting the best tactics of revenge.

"Not. Funny." Troy growled once oxygen was miraculously restored to him.

"Says you." Chad said. Sharpay laughed harder.

Snarling, Troy made him way over to the library, leading his band of laughing idiots as he headed upstairs to the non-fiction section, which guaranteed privacy from unwanted eavesdroppers.

Settling down at one of the tables, Troy glared at his friends, still pissed about the early-morning choking.

"One, Gabriella is _not _my girlfriend."

Chad shrugged. "Sure-for now. But that could change. You definitely have the hots for her, my friend."

"He so wants her." Sharpay smirked.

He so wanted to smash their heads together, but he wasn't a violent person. Besides he couldn't afford getting bad marks on his record. He settled his taste of vengeance with a hard glare. "Irrelevant. And I thought, Sharpay, we were keeping this little matter between us."

"I did," Sharpay said. "Then I started brainstormed and needed a second brain to tell and exchange notes with. You're pretty much useless to call since you're busy with homework and training with your dad. I wanted to tell Kelsi, but she was too busy doing my brother to be much of help. I knew Tay would have the whole barn if I told her what was going on. Martha was busy with dance squad, fulfilling her duties as the new captain since Homes got the boot. So I reached out to my fourth best gal pal."

Chad looked like he was crossed between amusement and disbelief. "I don't know whether I should feel flattered or insulted."

"Well, how do you feel?" Sharpay asked.

"Strangely both."

"Then go with that feeling."

Sometimes it hard to figure out how exactly he remained friends with these two for so long. Alone, they caused him a headache. Together they were a double-featured, skull-splitting migraine.

Sharpay lightly tapped Troy with her nail filer that she retrieved from her bag, bringing him back to plant earth, and worked on her left pinkie. "Now since that problem is resolved, let's move onto more important things. Did you figure out who framed your girlfriend?"

"She's not my-" Oh, what was the point wasting his breath when his words fell on deaf ears? "I have a list of possible suspects."

He spent the majority of the night going through most of his yearbooks and checking up his classmates' profiles, trying to connect them to the crime. People whose glares were hostile towards Gabriella. People who didn't appreciate her sharp wit. People who may suffered in one way or the other because of her.

He came up with five suspects.

The first was Ian Throne, the cocky quarterback who made it his mission to get into Gabriella's pants. Right after winter break he tried groping her in front of the student body. It was the football team's idea of marking their territory, which quickly went downhill when Gabriella Black-Widowed his ass.

As humiliating as that might have been, Gabriella's terrifying threat overpowered humiliation. Throne wasn't a smart guy, but even he wasn't that stupid to cross her after that, so his name got crossed off.

Next was Taylor McKessie. It was no secret that Taylor didn't like her, expressing her disdain for the girl on her first day. There was something about Gabriella that rubbed Taylor the wrong way, and the fact that she had been corrected in class by Gabriella on more than one occasion certainly didn't make things better.

Last but not least, the Terror Trio: Heather Homes, Gwen Davis and Amanda Fallen.

After reviewing the list in silence, Chad looked right into Troy's eyes and said "It's not Taylor, Troy."

Troy wasn't at all surprised to hear Chad say something like that. He was her boyfriend after all.

His facial expression must have showed some signs of doubts because a dark frown appeared on Chad's face. "Look, I know Tay can have her moments that actually outdo Sharpay's dramatics-"

"Hey!" Sharpay said.

Carrying not, he continued "But Taylor would never do something like that. She may be harsh sometimes, but she's not nasty."

Troy looked over at Sharpay.

"Though I resent previous comment about my dramatic flair, which I can guarantee for a fact will win me an Oscar and a Tony in five years time; I have to agree with the Afro. Also, I'd like to add this. There's a difference between playing dirty and being downright nasty. Framing someone of drug-possession is the definition of downright nasty."

Troy didn't bother arguing with them. He had been thinking the same thing two when he was comparing Taylor and Heather, recalling the different ways the two dealt with people.

"Okay, so it's clear Ian may but dumb, but doesn't want a Gabriella death wish. We also agree that it couldn't be Taylor," They nodded. Troy nodded and crossed her name out. "Which leaves us with only three suspects, but I think it's clear they might as well be one."

Linking Amanda and Gwen to Heather, Troy circled her name, marking her as the ringleader.

"Guilty." Chad stated.

"So guilty." Sharpay added.

Another point Troy didn't argue with.

Heather, Gwen, and Amanda did have their asses handed to them when Gabriella sent the Principal of the three harassing that poor girl. They served their time and were kicked out of the clubs that helped fuel their popularity.

Troy remembered seeing Heather standing by Gabriella's locker before free period. Then again, this time with Gwen, after free period.

And one of the things Heather was most known for was letting go of grudges by getting even.

Chad folded his hands behind his head and leaned back against his chair. "Well, it's not a matter of knowing who did. The issue is going to be getting a confession."

"Chad's right," Sharpay frowned. "Even with the motive, we still need proof otherwise Matsui will just think we're trying to pin it on them. And I think we will know Heather Homes will sooner give a blow-job to the captain of the chess team than confess to something that could get her in even more trouble."

"Well," Troy said. "Maybe it doesn't have to be Heather."

Quickly catching on, Chad smiled. "So we look at Gwen and Amanda."

"And I have the perfect idea on how to get the confession." Sharpay smiled wickedly.

There was something about that wicked smile that gave Troy the idea he wasn't going to like what Sharpay had in mind.

After lunch he spotted Gwen by her locker, arranging her massive lip-gloss collection that took up a lot in her locker and checking her phone every five seconds. Probably seeing what was going on in Twitter or waiting to hear from Heather.

_For Gabriella_, he reminded himself, walking towards her.

Leaning against the locker behind her, Troy gave her his best charming smile. "Hey. How's it going, Gwen?"

Her lips were set in a nasty thin line when she heard someone besides her. The line grew into a big smile when she looked up and locked eyes with Troy. "Hi Troy."

"I was just wondering if you can help me with something."

"Like what?"

Good question. Troy raked through the list of all his classes, trying to put Gwen's face to one of them. History he had Amanda. Homeroom he dealt with all three of their eyes boring holes into his skull. Lab he-wait, lab.

She was in his fourth period lab class for Anatomy.

"With lab. I heard Mr. Gallo might give us a pop quiz on Thursday and I don't have the notes."

Gwen laughed, flipping her hair back in a very Heather-like style. The chuckle though reminded Troy too much of a pig snort. "I never worry about that class. It's a breeze."

Thanks to the brainics she pays to do all her lab work and who she copies off of whenever they have an exam.

"Well," Troy said. "I can't really concentrate on that. Guess I'm too distracted by a pretty brunette."

Gwen, obviously believing the dream girl was her, put her hand over her heart and looked like she was about to die of happiness. "Oh Troy."

Oh brother.

He pasted a smile onto his face as he said "So I was wondering if we can meet up later and exchange notes. If you know what I mean."

"Like a date?" Her eyes twinkled excitedly at the thought.

"More so study." Emphasis on the _study_.

"Oh God, it finally happened. It actually happened." Gwen whispered to herself, momentarily forgetting about Troy's presence. "The sweet goddess of goodness finally decided to bestow her goodness onto me. Before Heather."

The sweet goddess of what? Troy looked at her, puzzled, while she continued to talk to herself.

"Good things have always happen to Heather first. Did you know that? Always. Since preschool when she got the Dream Malibu Barbie dream house, which I desperately wanted. With the convertible, 2 Malibu Kens, and the last Malibu Barbie Toysrus had left."

_I wonder if this is cue to leave_, thought Troy.

"It only got worse and more unfair as we got older. She got the designer clothes first, the newest cars, the newest phones, the hottest boyfriends. Except you," Gwen slowly turned to Troy. The gleam in her eyes was close to the crazy side. "And she's been trying to get you since seventh grade after her birthday party."

The same party where Troy found himself locked in the closet during a game of seven minutes of heaven, getting slobbered on by Heather. She had her tongue so far down Troy's throat, he was sure she was trying to dig her way to China.

"But you, the boy she's been pining over, picked me. Me. Which means I finally have something over the bitch."

Troy was five seconds away from retreating before Gwen yanked him back to her. "My house. Seven 'o'clock."

"I'll be there."

"Oh, you will be," Gwen nodded. "You will be."

Troy gently pried her fingers off him, gave him one last smile, and walked over to Sharpay. As soon as he had a good yard distance between him and Gwen, his smile fell.

A smile that turned into a snarl when he saw how amused Sharpay looked. And how close she was to losing it.

"Not. One. Word."

"How about a phrase? You two looked so cute together." Sharpay cooed, pinching his cheek.

Troy slapped her hand away and walked away.

* * *

><p>With the help of GPS, Troy parked in front of Gwen's house. A modest yet large three-story white, polished house.<p>

"I don't know if I can do this, guys," he confessed to Chad and Sharpay in a three-way phone call. "I feel dirty."

"Then take a shower." Dr. Watson 2 a.k.a Chad suggested.

"Not helping. I'm not sure I can go through with this. I feel like I'm using this girl."

"It's not like you're doing her."

"Once again, not helping."

Sharpay decided to take over, Dr. Watson 1. "And once again, you're over-thinking and hesitating, Sherlock Holmes. I agree with the other Watson. You're not using Gwen. You're just planting bait and waiting for the fishies to come in."

"Wow," Chad said. "I'm impressed. You actually used a decent metaphor that didn't sound stupid."

"Screw you, Danforth," Sharpay repiled. "Listen Troy, it may seem like using to you, but it's only to help a friend."

"Who you obviously want to have as your girlfriend." Chad put in.

"Shut up, Danforth!" Sharpay and Troy said in unison.

"Just saying."

Over the phone Troy heard a loud thump followed by a cry of pain. Something told him Chad and Sharpay were in the same room together, using different phones.

"That hurt." Chad complained.

"Was meant to," Sharpay repiled. "Listen, Troy, don't forget who Gwen Davis is. The world's most annoying chatterbox. One of the most conniving girls at school. Do you remember the hell they put Kelsi through freshmen year? The cyber-bullying and I Hate Nelson page Gwen made on Facebook?"

"I'm with Shar, man," Chad said. "Gwen may not hold the Queen Bitch crown like Heather, but she's definitely the princess of cattiness."

Troy remembered the day three mean girls harassed that poor lower classman. All over a slightly-scarped shoe. While Gwen didn't lay a hand on her, she didn't step in and stop the torture. She took out her Blackberry and wanted to capture everything for Facebook.

Chad was right. Gwen wasn't the Queen Bitch like Heather, but she definitely was the reigning princess of mean.

With new-found determination, Troy hung up and proceeded with the plan, walking up to Gwen's front door and knocking on the door. A second later it was opened by a heavyset, bored-looking Italian woman in her late sixties who wasn't at all surprised to see Troy standing there.

"Hello, ma'am. I'm-"

"Upstairs. Second door on the left." She said before heading down the hall.

"Troy Bolton."

Okay, clearly this isn't the first time housekeepers instructed guys to Gwen's house.

Troy, climbing up the long staircase that led into a wide hallway, wondered how many though.

The second door on the left had Gwen's name printed in bright, bold pink against a golden background. The two colors reminded him of Sharpay.

"Gwen." Troy knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Troy stepped in and then nearly stepped out.

All the lights were turned off for the two dozen white mini candles that were set around the place. In front of the princess canopy bed was two bottles of wine. On the white, frilly nightstand was a half-empty bottle of wine.

Sprawled across the bed, dressed in dark lavender, black-laced night-slip that was sheer and left little to the imagination was Gwen.

_Oh my dear God_. What had he gotten himself into?

"Hello Troy."

"Um…" was all he could say. It was all anyone could say in a situation like the one he was currently experiencing and trying to process.

"You're so right," Gwen got up from the bed and, on unsteady feet, walked over to Troy. He saw there was nothing underneath the gown except for a pair of barely-there thong panties. "Why speak when we can do so much more interesting things?"

The words "wet" and "dog" came to Troy's mind as Gwen crushed her lips against his in a hard, eager kiss.

_What is it with these girls and throat-digging? _

It took a full minute and nearly all his strength to break himself from Gwen's wet, strong hold. His lips were completely coated in layers of her spit.

_Gross. _

"Gwen, let's take things slow. Put a brake on this."

"You're right," she agreed before pushing him hard onto her bed. She straddled his hips, giving him a sultry smirk. "The bed is so much better."

He couldn't help comparing her smirk to Gabriella's and how the two drew different reactions from him. When Gabriella smirked like that, he could feel his insides twisting and shaking in anticipation. When Gwen smirked like that, she reminded him of an eager pre-teen rushing to lose the big-V as if it were some sort of contest.

Which increased the awkward level of this situation.

"Um, okay. Alright before we do that, let me just grab a few things. Okay?"

Gwen pouted but complied, sneaking another wet kiss from him before rolling off him.

Troy scooted across the large queen-size bed to the other side. He laid his backpack on the ground, checked inside to make sure his things didn't get crush in the ambush, and prepared himself.

When he resurfaced, Gwen had herself another glass of wine.

"Want some? I think it's from that rapper. You know the one who used to date J-Lo? I think his name is P. Diddy. Or maybe it's P. Buddy like that sports dog? You get it? Buddy?" Gwen laughed at her joke like it was the funniest thing she had ever heard in her life.

"No thanks. I don't drink."

"Well," Her eyes twinkled wickedly as her smirk broadened. "There's something you can drink." She got on her knees, pushing out her B-cup breasts toward him.

Oh dear God, was this actually happening to him?

"Um, okay." Forcing his eyes to go from the eyeful of breasts, whose nipples he could see was hard beneath the sheer material. "I was thinking we could take things slow." _Like a lot slow. _"Or we could just talk?"

Gwen dropped her breasts and looked at Troy confused, as if he were the one holding out his. "Talk?"

"Yeah. Let's talk about you."

It didn't talk much to get Gwen to talking, especially when she herself was her favorite topic of choice. It also helped that she was tipsy and her infamous loose lips were spilling facts and secrets left and right.

Too bad none of those facts or secrets was anything he could use to help Gabriella.

"So," she said an hour later. "that's when I convinced my daddy to get a nose-job for Hanukkah. After all if Shelia was already to get a new bra size to celebrate their month as newly-webs, why shouldn't I get a new nose in celebration of my Jewish roots?"

The logic behind that question was so far off, the expression "off the radar" was nowhere far enough.

Troy gazed longingly at the empty wine bottle Gwen polished off. He'd love nothing more than to grab the bottle and be done with this crap.

_Remember Gabriella, Bolton. You're doing this all for Gabriella. _

His eyes shifted over to Gwen. She was past the tipsy-stage and now entered full-on drunkenness. She wasn't a horny drunk anymore, thank the Good God. She was more like the sleepy drunk with glassy eyes shutting and popping on repeat, her body lightly swaying against the breeze coming through the window, looking like she was about to crash any second.

If there was ever a time to go, the time was now.

"So it's pretty weird about last week," he said casually, starting his fishing rod before he put it the bait. "Gabriella getting called into Matsui's office, then getting suspended like that."

Like he expected, Gwen burst into loud laughter that shook her small body. "I wouldn't say weird. I'd say payback."

_Bingo_. "Why do you say that?"

Gwen smiled over the rim of her glass like she was holding onto a very juicy secret. "I mean we're the ones who did it."

_Jackpot_.

"Wow. That's just-"

"I know," Gwen cut in, sounding quite proud of herself. "Fucking brilliant and totally well-deserved. Hope for that skank's sake, she'll learn you never mess with Heather or us without getting squished like a bug."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it's time someone put the little skank in her place."

"You planted the drugs in her locker?"

Gwen hiccupped, covered her mouth, and laughed a second too late. "Don't be silly, Troy. We never do the physical labor. We have losers to do that for us. Heather first started with the sectary's daughter, Penny Sweets. Or Heets. Or whatever the hell her last name is. Anyway, we made a deal with her. Well, actually, Heather made the deal. She helps us get Montez's locker combination, then Heather hooks up her with a free appointment to a doctor at a clinic a few towns over that have a very strict no-questions policy."

No-questions policy? "What do you mean exactly?"

Gwen snorted, sounding like pig waddling in mud, as she rolled her eyes. She smiled over at Troy like his questions were too cute. "Duh Troy. Why else do girls go to the doctor's in order to avoid the shameful, bulging nine months of shame."

Right. An abortion. The daughter gave up the information to take care of the problem before it became a permanent one.

That answer explained how they gained access to the locker, but it still didn't explain the drugs. Or where they came from. "What about the bag?"

"The bag?" It took close to a minute for the realization to sink in. "Oh! You mean the drugs? Those were a bit trickier."

"How?"

Gwen first reached over for the bottle and tried to get a sip. She looked crushed to see it was empty. Sighing, she answered Troy's question with one of her own, "You know Joel Bono?"

Troy almost shook his head until an image popped into his head. A skinny, tallish boy who looked like the average Joe with red hair so shaggy, no one knew what color were his eyes. Always dressed in a gray sweatshirt, black jeans, and ratty Converses. Doozing off in class at the back of the classroom and trading pharmacy goodies with his stoner buddies during lunch.

Athletes go to him whenever they need an extra boost for a big game. Brainics go to him whenever they need to pull an all-nighter. Some people go to him whenever they want to see the stars.

"Anyway everyone-well not _everyone_ everyone obviously because if teachers find out, he'd be so dead. If Matsui found it, he'd really be dead. Anyway, I'm just rambling off,"

_I noticed_, Troy thought, trying hard not to roll his eyes, wishing she'd get on with it.

"Anyway everyone knows Bono's candy-man of pills. But we all thought pills weren't really enough. So at lunch we were sitting around brainstorming before Amanda suddenly blurts out "Coke" We looked at her like okay, who the hell are you? I mean I love Amanda and everything, but she really can be dumb sometimes. Or a lot of times," Gwen rolled her eyes. "Then Heather stared at her and started to smile. It wasn't her home-coming queen smile or queen-bee smile. It was her evil mastermind smile. She said we needed bigger guns. We needed Bono's brother."

"His brother?"

"Yeah," Gwen nodded. "Aaron Bono? Remember him? Former track star turned stoner? Used to date Heather's sister, Amber, before she dropped for Shane Mitchell? Works part-time as the night guy? Ring a bell?" Sighing, she waved a dismissive hand. "Whatever. Anyway," Troy was really starting to hate that word. Especially since this had the fifth or sixth time Gwen said it. "He supplies the much heavier stuff, if you know what I mean. So after she got the brainstorm, Heather quickly arranged a meeting with the brothers at the science lab. Thankfully the nerds were still eating and trading Pokémon cards, so we didn't have to worry about anything dropping into the conversation. Anyway, Heather laid out the cards. The Bono brothers put together a goodie-bag bound to lay Montez in the hot-seat with Matsui, and she'd pay them both five hundred each. On top of that they 'd both receive an invite to Heather's summer-block party, which is bound to bring in good customers willing to pay any piece."

Troy struggled to put the hostility out of his voice. "So they went for it?"

Gwen snorted again, waving another dismissive hand. "Those Bono brothers are tough. Originally they felt like they were being cheated out, so Heather threw in another bonus. She offered them Amanda."

_What?! _

For a second Troy was sure the wine was finally getting to Gwen. Her words, though, were clear and steady as she told him this startling piece of news.

"What do you mean she _offered_ him Amanda?"

"Oh Troy. You're so clueless, it's really adorable," Gwen patted his cheek and pouted at him. His body tensed at her touch, shivering over her hand. He ordered himself not to push her away. He meet her clearly yet classy hazel eyes. "It's simple. The brothers make the special goodie-bag for Gabriella that gets her ass kicked out of school. The brothers get to do whatever they want with Amanda. A special win-win."

_What plant was this girl from? _

Troy stared at Gwen in stunned silence, trying but failing not to show hostility. Or outrage. "So you mean you and Heather traded out your best friend like a prostitute?"

And his teammates wondered why he would never date them?

A scowl, the first he'd seen the whole night, darkened Gwen's face. She looked insulted. She shoved him away from her, hissing. "I don't like your tone, buddy. It wasn't as if we pimped her out to him. Basically it's not like Amanda's a virgin or anything. She already did more than half the male population at school. A simply threesome is not going to kill."

_What friggering plant was this girl from? _

As shocked and outraged he was by what he was hearing, Troy know this meeting wasn't done yet. He needed the full confession before he could put this one to bed. "So you, Gwen Davis, Heather Homes, Amanda Fallen, with the help of Bono brothers, framed Gabriella Montez?"

"Duh," she answered. "Amanda fucked the brothers behind the bleachers. Heather got the locker combo from Penny Sweets. Aaron and Joel put together the goodie-bag. And before the final bell rings-as soon as we made sure the halls were completely clear-Heather opened the locker, and I placed the drug right on the first shelf like so. Easy as one, two, and three."

_Damn. _

That was all Troy could think. It was the only word that seemed to fit.

Gwen mistook Troy's silence as admiration. Smiling, she leaned in and kissed him hard on the lips, taking her time as she kissed him slowly, not noticing how still Troy's lips were against hers. "I know," she whispered. "We're brilliant."

Then, without warning, she clocked out, falling onto her pillow and snoring within seconds.

Troy quickly made his exit, grabbing his backpack and leaving Gwen and her loose lips far behind as he drove his car over to Sharpay's house.

Chad was surfing the web on Sharpay's computer while she lounged on her bed, reading the latest People magazine. They put immediately put away their things as Troy entered the room.

"What happened?" Chad asked.

"Did you get it?" Sharpay demanded.

Troy didn't say anything. He calmly laid his backpack on Sharpay's soft white carpet, one of the few non-pink items in her room, and pulled out a small voice recorder that had been on the full hour.

Pushing the red button, Troy played back the final segment.

"_So you, Gwen Davis, Heather Homes, Amanda Fallen, with the help of Bono brothers, framed Gabriella Montez?_"

It was odd hearing his voice on the recorder, sounding so loud and clear. It was odder yet satisfying hearing how clear Gwen sounded on the machine, despite how buzzed she was.

"_Duh_," she answered. "_Amanda fucked the brothers behind the bleachers. Heather got the locker combo from Penny Sweets. Aaron and Joel put together the goodie-bag. And before the final bell rings-as soon as we made sure the halls were completely clear-Heather opened the locker, and I placed the drug right on the first shelf like so. Easy as one, two, and three._"

Chad's mouth dropped. Sharpay grinned like the Chesire cat. Troy's face was unreadable.

"Those bitches," Sharpay said. "are so dead."

A smile, small but geninue, spread across Troy's somber face. "I couldn't have said it better myself."


	26. Chapter 26

**ET Chapter 26: Demons come at dusk, Pain at dawn **

"Hoooowwwllll!"Rob howled loudly and proudly as he parked his truck behind the seemingly plain gray-stone motel building.

Beside him, sitting in the passenger's seat, Gabriella rolled her eyes as she fixed her mascara in the little car window.

"Gabs, come," He grabbed her hand, making her mess up the line she was drawing. "Howl with me."

"I'd rather punch you." She twisted her hand free and then checked her reflection.

Great. Thanks to Rob, it looked like her eye-pencil had a mind of its own.

"Jesus Christ," she mumbled angrily. She wiped the line hard off her face until there was barely a trace. Using her right hand, which she figured was a safer option since it was further from Rob's reach, she started her eye-makeup over again. "You're such a child."

The bright smile on Rob's smile chipped down into a frown. "And you're such a buzz-kill. You managed to ruin the fun before we even stepped inside."

"Fuck you!"

"Maybe later."

Annoyance flared in Gabriella, tightening the veins of her neck, causing her teeth to grind her teeth. She wanted to punch him. Badly. She also had to finish her makeup. Lucky for him.

Rolling her eyes, she finished with the eye-pencil, and then moved onto the mascara.

"You're still mad about that puppy dog, aren't you?"

Mad didn't even begin to cover how she felt about her surprise "visitor" coming into her house. Not that se was going to tell him that. She figured her silence was going to great job for her.

"Look, Gabs," Rob said. "The kid was desperate. And when I say desperate, I mean_ desperate_. He came into the place with a determined look in his eye like he was heading off to battle or something. Said so himself that he was going to find you one way or another, even if it meant driving all throughout town."

Finished with the eyes, she moved onto lips. Fishing out a tube of her favorite vixen-red sheered lipstick, she painted her lips with the thin wand.

"I know you don't want to hear it. I know I'll probably get hit for this. But, Gabriella," Oh Lord. Her full name. He was really getting serious. "The kid really cares about you,"

She finished her lips and rubbed them together, making sure they were covered and came out good.

"You know it. You just don't know what to do about it, which is why you're pissed."

She tucked her makeup items inside the flaps of her jacket. She ran her hands through her wild mane of black hair, fluffing it up a bit and taming stubborn strands.

"Maybe because a part of you-deep down like the earth's center-there's a part of you that actually feels the same way. Which makes you even more pissed-off."

When she was sure her makeup was good and her hair looked fine, she turned away from the mirror and over to Rob. "I thought we were to party, not play Dr. Phil."

Rob looked like he was going to retaliate, but Gabriella beat to the punch, saying "I just wanna drink and dance and forget. Okay?"

He rolled his eyes, sighing deeply, but didn't pursue the issue any longer. "Okay. Agreed."

"Good." She smiled, pleased.

They got out of the car and stood for a moment, watching dozens of decked-out people heading inside the building, checking their appearances for any flaw. More than once a pair of eyes glanced over their direction. Not that Gabriella blamed them. They did look good.

Rob was sporting a wife-beater that showed off his much toned upper body paired with his favorite black leather jacket and stonewash jeans that were the right amount of baggy without looking completely shaggy. Completing his look were new Jordans and a backwards black cap.

On her, a gray and black striped, stomach-baring tank top underneath a new black short leather jacket. Bleached skinny jeans tucked into black leather boots that were bedazzled with a swirl of sliver beads. Her hair was half up, half down. Her make-up was light with the expectation of her bright lipstick. For accessories, she had on a pair of big silver hoops, black and silver cross pendant, and, of course, her diamond stub nose-ring.

"What do you think of me getting a tongue ring?" Gabriella asked. She had been thinking about it for awhile.

"I think," Rob said. "that it will definitely be fun kissing you. And much more for my little friend when you kiss him."

_Ass-wipe_, she thought, punching her laughing friend in the arm before they walked inside the building.

On the outside, it looked like a typical, abandoned hotel building two-stories high and painted a dull gray. Yet the second you step inside, you're instantly surrounded by colors shining from the overhead brightly-lit neon lights and looking at your reflection through a row of crazy mirrors as you proceeded downstairs. Then through a plain gray door with the biggest crazy mirror hanging in front, you're transported to a land of bright lights and the biggest dance floor flooded with crazy moves and people following the beat booming from the ceiling high speakers.

When Rob first brought her to the Underground, Gabriella was hesitant, unsure of his words when he told her the Underground was the club for dancers.

The second she went through the mirrored door, witnessing the sickest moves and being lost in the sweet beats of the music, she was hooked.

There wasn't just one floor reserved only for dancing. All three floors were the dance floors, each more crowded and alive than last.

There were also perks that came with the club: a fully stocked bar on the first floor with an endless supply of drinks. The lack of serious authority. Private rooms upstairs.

Stepping through the familiar room, Britney Spears was blaring from the speakers, singing about dancing till the world ends.

A plan that sounded pretty good to Gabriella.

"What'ca you want?" yelled Rick, one of the bartenders over the music. In the Underground, where the music and crowds were always loud, a person really had to shout to be heard.

"A rum and coke." Rob yelled back.

"Tequila. Straight up." Gabriella ordered.

One of the things she loved about the place was the fact she never had to worry about coming up with her ID on the spot. According a friend of Rob's who used to bartend here, their policy was simple. You make a fool out of yourself, hope to God people are too drunk to notice.

"A toast." Rob requested, raising his glass high. "To living fast and doing well in life before the big curtain comes down."

"Cheers." The friends clicked their glasses and drank, the liquor burning their throats as it went down.

Hours later, Gabriella felt like she was in one with her inner aura, floating on cloud nine. Lost in the sweeping sea of loud beats and the haze of alcohol, swaying her hips and waving her hands like she had no care.

After their second drink, Rob followed Gabriella over to the dance floor on the second level. They danced through remixes of Usher and Chris Brown, some mash-ups of Rihanna and J-Lo. In the beginning, it started out with the two of them swaying and grinding together. The another guy appeared in front of her, moving with her in the front while Rob covered her behind, turning their duo into a trio. Around the sixth song, an Asian chick with pink-dyed pink danced with Rob, leaving Gabriella completely free with the remaining partner.

By the thirtieth song, Rob disappeared with the pink-haired chick and Gabriella had relieved herself in the restroom.

Flushing down a vast supply of piss, she came out of the stall and washed her hands.

A second later a pretty Latina emerged from the stall two doors away from hers. Long dark hair, sparkling brown eyes, a thin but curvy body showed off nicely in her little black dress.

"Hey." The girl greeted her tone as bright as her smile.

"What's up?"

The girl shrugged in response, and they continued to wash their hands in silence. The girl finished before Gabriella, who was re-touching her makeup. But she didn't join the party. She decided to make her own, flipping open the cap of her black mood ring.

Gabriella's buzz flew out of her system as if it was sucked by a needle, replaced by a hollowed but hardened emptiness that was associated with her memories.

_One line, two line, three line, four. All went down the rabbit hole as Maria deeply inhaled the lines of powder with a rolled-up dollar bill. _

_Once the fourth line was in her system, mingling with the fellow lines and the shots of vodka she chugged down, a smile of ecstasy spread across her face. _

_It took what felt like forever for Maria to be sober enough to get off from the floor, the glazed-over expression still remaining in her glassy eyes, twisting the mood over and over on her finger. She walked over to the small mirror hanging by the wall, trying to bring out whatever decent features she had left of her once beautiful face. _

_Her concentration broke as she noticed a familiar figure standing in between the kitchen and the hallway, her eyes locked on hers. A smirk of taunting, tainted with poisoned bitterness, played across her lips as she turned over to her daughter. _

"_Want some, honey?" She held out her onyx ring. On the outside, it was just another accessory that went with the scandalous clothes she wore. Inside, it was the on-go stop storing piles and piles of coke that helped her through the day._

_Gabriella didn't bother to dignity that question with an answer. She grabbed her toast, grabbed her bag, and headed off to school. All whilst ignoring Maria's cynical laughter. _

Fuck.

The girl feed one nostril, and then moved onto the other. She breathed in deeply, and the familiar smile Gabriella had seen countless times growing up spread across her face.

Taking notice of Gabriella, the girl smiled and offered her the ring. "Want some? It's good shit."

Gabriella couldn't contain her disgust as she studied the ring. Her disgust wasn't targeted at the drips of snot running down the black onyx, but at the bulks of cocaine nestled inside. She remembered the shameful things her mother had done for just a hit of the stuff.

"_You think you're so fucking special, don't you, brat? Like you're so much better than me?" Maria taunted. Her breath smelt heavily of liquor, kissing her skin as she stood behind her, staring at their reflection in the mirror. Gabriella represented the golden past while Maria represented the horrible future. She grabbed a handful of Gabriella's hair and yanked hard. "I got news for you, baby. You _are _me." _

Gabriella's first instinct was to shake off her disgusting hands, then telling the bitch to go fuck herself. But she remembered where she was, and how cold her body felt.

_Get a fucking grip, Montez_.

She forced herself to look at the ring-bearer, meeting her drug-hazed eyes. "I'm good, thanks."

Confusion crossed the girl's face. "You sure? I always let new customers get a free taste of the merchandise."

She wasn't just a user. She was dealer, too. Lovely.

"I'm sure."

Gabriella left the bathroom and hit the dance floor with vengeance, dancing to every song blaring from the speakers, moving along side a partner or two who wanted a feel of her moves and her body, losing herself in the sweltering heat and music until she felt like she was drowning. Until all thoughts of her mother and drug rings were far behind her.

A hundred songs later and one thirsty throat, Gabriella took a seat at the bar stool and banged her fist against the counter, calling for service. "Yo, bum. Vodka in a keg."

The bartender scowled, not pleased by the name. The scowl did lessen as he eyed her small figure, taking note of the curves. "You sure you don't want to start off with something light? Like a beer? A Cosmo?"

Okay, now he was being an ass. "I'm sure, bum."

He shrugged, as if she were playing a hand in her funeral, but said nothing. A keg of vodka was slide to her direction.

_Here's to living young_, she thought to herself, taking a big swing at her drink.

One keg of vodka managed to dim her senses for a bit. An additional four rounds swept her mind clean of what happened in the bathroom.

However, there was one thing alcohol couldn't wipe, no matter how many drinks she had.

A pair of innocent, beautiful blue eyes that continued to haunt her.

_Damn it. _

She finished her third shot of tequila and pushed the glass and empty keg back, signaling the bartender for another round. While she waited, she fished out a cigarette and stuck it in her mouth. Before she could look for her lighter, someone beat to the punch, lighting up her cigarette and making himself comfortable at the stool on her left.

Curious, Gabriella looked up. Dark, nearly black eyes met dark browns that were two or three shades lighter than hers. Attached to those eyes was a good-looking Latino. Black, wild hair. Nice body with good muscles. A fang-baring viper tattoo imprinted on his neck.

She couldn't control the smirk that blossomed on her lips as she studied him from head to toe. He definitely had gotten better-looking since the last time they crossed path. "Julio."

"Gabriella," he smirked back, tipping his head. "Thought I'd be the hero and save the pretty damsel in distress."

And just like that her smirk changed back into a frown-and a tight one. She inhaled her cigarette deeply and blew a cloud of smoke into his face. "If that's your idea of a pick-up line, you're sadly mistaken. You'll find yourself getting a slap instead of a kiss."

"Ouch," Julio recoiled as if he was hit. The smirk hanging by the corner of his lips gave him away. "Try to save the damsel and you get caught in her distress."

She blew another smoke cloud into his face. "I ain't no damsel."

Julio held out his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. My bad. Now that I think about it, you're right. Damsel isn't the right word for you. _No eres una damisela. Eres una princesa. Una princesa que esta muy buena y sexy."_

Gabriella leaned closer to him. "Flattery is a like a coin toss. Either you get heads and you score. Or you get tails and lose."

Intrigued, Julio smiled at her. "So did I get heads?"

"Try tails."

With that said she finished off her drink and went off to find her friend. What she didn't expect was Julio to catch up with her quickly, laying her against the wall and smiling with those wicked eyes of his.

"You know," he said without an ounce of shame. "The more you walk, the more I chase. The more I chase, the more I want."

Another night, another time she would punch a guy for laying a hand on her. Tonight was different. She wasn't feeling right. She was still thinking, despite the liquor and music. Despite herself. She was still seeing blue.

She looked into Julio's eyes. Chocolate brown, the complete opposite of brown. Blue was complicated. Complicated was the stepping stone of messes, which she had no desire to deal. Brown was easy. Brown was lustful and temporary, which she could handle easily.

A seductive smirk spread across her red lips. Gabriella grabbed hold of Julio's shirt and brought him close to her, their faces so close their breaths kissed the other's face. The want he possessed for her was practically gushing from his body from the slight shaking, the moan escaping his lips, and his little friend nudging against her.

"Lucky for you," She slowly ran her hand through his tattoo to cheek, knowing she was tormenting him with her deliberate movements and loving it. "I'm in the mood for a distraction."

Just one brush against his lips, and any self-control or plain Julio had gone completely out the door. Pulling her against him, he kissed Gabriella hungrily, nearly devouring her, trying to have every piece of her.

_This is nice_, Gabriella thought, her back pressed against the wall, keeping up with his hungry lips. _This is very nice_.

It wasn't long before she found herself in a familiar position. Private spot,mighty turned off. Lying flat on her back, her shirt tossed aside somewhere, being deeply and roughly kissed by a great distraction whose hands were busy exploring her body as his tongue swept through her mouth.

"God, you're sexy." Julio murmured against her skin as he kissed her neck.

Such flattery, it was pleasing to hear. But at the moment unwanted. Gabriella didn't want talk. She wanted action.

"How about you use that mouth for something useful?" she suggested.

Thankfully, Julio took the hint. He brought his lips back to hers in a lustful kiss where their mouths collided and tongues clash, the temperature-slash-pleasure escalating to a very high level. He scrambled out of his pants and she helped him with hers. He rocked against her groin, causing her moans to grow louder.

"My god," she moaned, closing her eyes.

To see those haunting blue eyes staring back at her.

_SHIT! _Her eyes snapped open. The lightness, the weightlessness, the pleasure-it only took seeing blue for them to all fade away, leaving her with nothing but an unsettling hollowness.

It didn't feel right. Suddenly none of this felt right-or even fine. Julio's lips were too rough and hard to be considered pleasurable, his tongue too needy and wet. His hands too eager.

He didn't feel right. His lips didn't cause a fire. His touch didn't ignite her.

It wasn't-he wasn't-oh Sweet Jesus son of God, no!

"Fuck!" Gabriella roared, pushing Julio away from her. Anger was fueled behind the strong shove that sent the boy tumbling to the ground.

Her head was spinning, filled with too many thoughts. Her gut twisted and coiled inside her, trying to contain something too wild and vast. Annoyed and confused, she climbed off the bed, grabbed her things, and started to dress.

"What the hell? What just happened?"

She slipped back on her top and wiggled into her tight jeans. She didn't put back on her jacket; the building was starting to get hot. She tied it around her waist.

"What the hell is your problem?"

After she zipped up her boots, Gabriella answered. "Changed my mood. Not in the mood tonight."

"_What!_" The question came out louder than the last question, sounding more like a demand. Gabriella turned around to see the confusion on Julio's face darken to anger.

"Not. In. The. Mood." Gabriela repeated. "Want me to say it in Spanish? _No estoy de humor para esto_."

Julio was loss at words. It might have been the first time he didn't get the full ride at the Underground. Judging by the nasty scowl on his face, he didn't look one bit happy about it. "What the-you're fucking me, right? You can't just led someone on like that and pull back last minute. For God's damn sake, my balls are choking me."

Hearing him whine added more fuel to her escalating annoyance. She already had too much crap on her mind. The last thing she needed to deal with was a distraction's inability to accept rejection.

"Then masturbate!" Gabriella snapped, walking out the door without giving Julio a second glance.

"_Puta!__" _he yelled behind her. "_Eres una maldita puta provocadora."_

"_Vete a la mierda, hijo de puta!__"_

She was dreaming of munchkins.

Cute little munchkins with huge heavy hammers they were banging against her skull, wearing huge close-to-psychotic smiles on their faces.

_Demons_ by Imagine Dragons was playing as background music.

_I wanna hide the truth  
>I wanna shelter you<br>But with the beast inside  
>There's nowhere we can hide<em>

The munchkins suddenly weren't munchkins anymore. They were demons-her own set of monsters, taking a swing at her.

Her mother in revealing attire, traces of her former beauty faint. Lips twisted into a biting snarl. Dark eyes lit with such fury and hatred.

Scorpion, face ever emotionless, eyes soulless, studying her like a dissected frog.

_No matter what we breed  
>We still are made of greed<br>This is my kingdom come  
>This is my kingdom come<em>

Carols with his ever-present smirk that pinned her frozen, eyes undressing her cloth by cloth, his lust uncontrollable and monstrous.

Javier as two different people. One Javier as the protector she remembered, the brother that never let her down. The other Javier as the man she didn't recognize anymore, the stranger always disappointed in her. Always assuming the worst of her.

_When you feel my heat  
>Look into my eyes<br>It's where my demons hide  
>It's where my demons hide<em>

Pup. Pup with his annoying, idiotic mouth. Pup with his pretty-boy face he used as mask. Pup with his beautiful, innocent blue eyes that could easily break her.

_Don't get too close  
>It's dark inside<br>It's where my demons hide  
>It's where my demons hide<em>

"_I really like you," he murmured, the soft words causing her nerves to run on overdrive before he delivered the final blow. _

"Fuck!" Her eyes snapped opened as she woke up, a move she soon regretted as pain-intense, brutal, and just plain mean-hit her at every corner of her skull.

"Fuck." She laid back down on the hard floor. One hard, smooth floor, trying to ease her way through the demonic hangover.

Why the hell did have to drink so much last night?

Why the hell did she have open her eyes?

What the hell was up with that dream?

And why the fucking hell does she still hears the song going on now?

_When you feel my heat  
>Look into my eyes<br>It's where my demons hide  
>It's where my demons hide<em>

_Don't get too close  
>It's dark inside<br>It's where my demons hide  
>It's where my demons hide<em>

The last question answered inside, vibrating against her thigh.

"Hell-" A cough made its way up her desert-dry throat, cutting her off. Her mouth was dried up and reeked in foulness.

Morning breath mixed with alcohol. Lovely.

"Hello." she tried again.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't hunt you down and kill you?" Javier demanded, not caring to hide the anger thundering in his voice. "_Por favor dame esa buena razón." _

Just friggering lovely. A monster of a hangover. A disturbing dream. A cactus throat. And, the cherry on the top, her brother's wrath.

Fate clearly did not like her.

Sighing, Gabriella answered his question. "Because Anita will personally declaw the family jewels if you make your children visit you at the slammer."

"_Where the hell are you?!_" he demanded. Loudly. She had to pull away the phone to keep her ears from going permanently deaf.

It took all the strength she used in her exhausted, drunk-limp body to get herself into sitting position and not fall over to the pounding headache. Turned out the hard, smooth floor she was lying on was surface of an egg-white bathtub. She was lying in the tub while across from her, his head buried in the toilet, a half-conscious dude in his plaid boxers.

Somehow when the drinks finally got to her, she stumbled into one of the suite's bathrooms and crashed.

Though she would have preferred waking up in a comfy bed, she couldn't really complain. At least when she woke up, toilet water and vomit won't be the first thing she sees.

"_Gabriella!_"

"Oh, you know," she told Javier. "Here, there. Out and about. Everywhere and nowhere."

She literally felt his temper flaring up, melting her phone. She half-expected it to go up in smoke. "You have thirty minutes-_and only thirty minutes_-to get your ass here."

He hanged on her.

"Always a pleasure, bro." Gabriella rolled her eyes, hanging up.

Okay, she needed to find Rob, but first she needed to get out of the tub.

She used the shower curtains to support her as moved her numb limbs.

_God damnit_.

Fuck the saying head spinning as one of the symptoms of a hangover. Her whole body felt like she was strapped onto a roller coaster going through countless high, stomach-churning loopy-loops. And the bout of nausea riding her stomach, so intense and painful, didn't help things either.

"Son of a bitch." she murmured. Slowly she stuck her left foot out the tub, setting it slowly on the ground. Then did so with the other foot.

Once the nausea lessened to a less intense level, she made her way out of the suite, passing by more party-goers crashed in various spots and positions. Outside in the hall, the scene wasn't much different. Only difference being there were more passed-out bodies. Half-empty cups and bottles spilled here and there. Discarded clothes.

There were too many places where Rob could be. She decided the best thing to do was call him, hoping he was still in the building.

_Girl look at that body  
>Girl look at that body<br>Girl look at that body_

_I work out_

Hearing the annoying-but-all-too-predictable ringer, Gabriella followed the sound down the hall into room 32.

She found Rob passed out with a pink bra-clad blonde nestled against him and a brunette pressed against his crotch.

_Nice_, she thought sourly.

A good friend would nudge Rob up and help him through the hangover that was soon to come. A friend like Gabriella-hung-over, pissed-off, bent on time with a crappy stomach-swung her left leg back and slammed it against his stomach like a soccer ball.

"Fuck!" Rob yelped, instantly up. The blonde rolled off him, the brunette landed not-so gently on the ground.

He brushed a hand against the bruised area and let out a hiss that rivaled that of a cat.

"What? Who? Fuck." Rob asked, distorted. He rubbed his head eyes hard as the evil hangover made its course. "Gabs?"

"Morning sleeping beauty." She had a little strength in her to smirk at her miserable friend.

He scowled at her. "You're a real bitch sometimes, you know that?"

"Proud of it."

Rob lost his shirt, along with his jacket. A brand-new jacket she knew cost him two paychecks, which had him muttering curses left and right. Like Gabriella, he drank too much and remembered little. Somehow in between make-out sessions with his two snuggle buddies and a game of strip poker with a small group of people, he was left only in his jeans. Thankfully, for his sake, he put all of his belongings in his pocket-including his keys.

"I'm amazed. Really." Gabriella said, helping Rob get on his feet and keeping him steady while he battled with the wicked hangover. "How the fuck does one lose half the clothes he came in wearing?"

"The same way you managed to go from being the beauty to the beast." Rob gestured towards her face.

Gabriella responded with a solid punch to the arm that was bound to leave a mark. "You're a bum."

"And you're a bitch."

The two friends locked eyes with each other, glaring, before losing it in laughter.

It was clear Rob was in no condition to drive. He needed her as a human crutch to keep him on his feet. Gabriella wasn't that much better. With her head pounding and eyes seeing double, she knew if she got behind the wheel an accident was bound to happen.

Which left them one opinion: the bus. And, proving fate really didn't like them, it was full. So not only did they have to deal with monster hangovers threatening to split their skull wide open. Not only did they have hang onto the contents of their stomachs with every bump and turn the bus went through. They had to endure curious, judgmental glares from everyone including the driver.

No one was more relieved than Gabriella when they finally reached her stop. Her relief turned to annoyance as she realized what was waiting for her. Damn.

"You know you can chill at my place and wait for the storm to blow over?" Rob asked, referring to hurricane Javier.

Gabriella almost took him up on his offer. Almost. Problem was she knew her brother. She knew how his temper worked.

The more she avoided him, the hotter the storm. Better to face the music and be done with it, even though she nearly died more than once walking up all those stairs.

Opening the door to her apartment, a surge of déjà vu hit Gabriella. The moment reminded her too much of her first disastrous day of school. The truth was too much for East High to handle. Principal called Tweety, Tweety called Javier, and Javier wanted to wring her neck.

She smelt the smoke, indicating he has been smoking a lot while waiting for her. But he wasn't on the couch.

Surprised, Gabriella's eyes darted away from the empty seat to the TV stand. Javier was leaning against the wall, staring at the pictures and cigarette in hand.

Without sparing a glance at her direction, he said "It feel like it was just yesterday when this picture was taken. You and I had ridden the tea cups before the picture. Six times and didn't barf once. Despite the fact we had the biggest pile of chili-cheese fries. There was so much cheese; you were convinced all that rats were going to come. You remember?"

Of course she remembered. It was the first Halloween she and her brother spent outside their room. They hitched a ride over to the amusement park on Coney Island, where for one night it was open for some Halloween fun. They stuffed their faces with pumpkin-shaped funnel cakes, eye meat-ball subs, and creepy chili-cheese fries. Then rode every ride they could more than twice. It was so much fun she never wanted to leave, insisting that she and her brother could just live there.

While Javier couldn't allow that, despite the great temptation, he promised that every Halloween they would come back to Coney Island-and so they did, clad in costumes even when Javier got too old for dressing up, stuffing their faces with carnival food, and going on every ride available.

Right up until she turned eleven and the tradition abruptly faded.

"I remember." Gabriella whispered through clenched teeth, her eyes focused on her shoes.

Javier looked over at her, taking in the party clothes, her dishevel hair, putting together the clues on where she was last night. He shook his head, murmuring under his breath. "Gabriella, please tell me you didn't do drugs last night."

Her eyes snapped back to him, darkened in anger. "Because that's why Maria would be gone all night, right? Besides screwing around?" she snapped. "And since I'm so much like her, I must have been doing one or the other? Maybe even both."

Annoyance sheered her brother's eyes, wiping any nostalgia they held onto moment ago. "Do not start, Gabriella. Don't. I already have enough shit to deal with without worrying if my baby sister is even conscious enough to know where she is or to pick up her goddamn phone."

Gabriella couldn't conceal the sharp, bitter laugh that escaped her lips. "That's rich, bro, coming from you. I seem to remember there were plenty of nights you creep back through the window escape smelling like a bar,"

He scowled. She continued on.

"And I didn't start anything. _You_ did. The second you came out of hiding and decided to play guardian with me, you did nothing but give me shit, always assuming I'm redoing Maria's best hits."

"That is not true."

"Oh really?" She raised her eyebrow suspiciously. "Who was the one who went right up to my face and said, and I quote "You're just like her."'

"You know I didn't mean it."

"Bull and shit."

Javier turned away from her, needing a minute to compose himself. Gabriella noticed how tight his fists were clenched, the skin turning white. He breathed in deeply and let out a long breath. "Tweety called. She wants to see us."

Gabriella rolled her eyes, annoyed. "Tell the bitch she can go fuck herself."

"She wants to meet at your school." he said.

"I repeat. She can go fuck herself. Then go to hell."

Javier ignored the jab, continuing "The principal called her and he wants all of us to be in his office in one hour."

Lovely. As if fate didn't jerk her around enough, she had to meet up with two people who were on the top of her shit list.

"Yea. I'll pass." Gabriella smiled sweetly as she made her way to the bathroom.

Javier clamped her arm. "Not a chance. And I'm not in the mood for any whining so save your breath. Get your shit together, clean your face up, and then we're out of there."

Gabriella yanked her arm back and shoved him. Hard. She cursed under her breath as she walked to the bathroom.

"Motherfuck…" she whispered, stunned, staring back at her reflection.

To say she looked out of it would be an understatement.

Her hair looked like it had gone against wild ravens that were trying to make it their nest. Stingy, matted, out of control. Her face wasn't much an improvement. Her mascara was caked under her blood-shot eyes with black streaks running down her cheeks as if she did nothing but cry the reminder of the night.

Which was completely crazy since she didn't cry. Well, at least she didn't think so. Or remember.

Gabriella raked through her muffled brain, trying to conjure up something. A moment, a picture. Anything.

She and Rob going to different directions. A girl snorting coke from her ring in the ladies' room. Drinking kegs and taking shots. Julio, a welcome distraction-turned-annoyance.

After that…after that….

She recalled vaguely more shots, both straight-up and body. She remembered dancing and dancing until her legs were searing from use. She remembered more shots. Then more dancing.

Then nothing but a big, black hole after that.

"Shit." she murmured.

A fist pounded against the bathroom door, breaking her train of thoughts. "One hour. Get moving."

Scowling, Gabriella answered his fist-pounding with several of her own. "Put a goddamn sock in it. You sound like a parrot_."_

Gabriella poured most of her annoyance into her teeth that she brushed vigorously, picturing every trace of foulness in her mouth was an extension of her brother. When her teeth was done and minty-fresh, she stripped off her clothes, emptied her pockets, and dumped them in the laundry basket.

She set the water to cold before stepping into the shower. The cold water was like a hard slap that stung her whole body. Her teeth were chattering within seconds. But the more she stood under the pour, the more awake her body became. As soon as her she built a tolerance against the icy water, she poured a handful of Dove shampoo in her hand and washed her hair.

Anita was leaning by the bathroom door when she came out of the shower, as if she were wating for her.

"Did our Cinderella enjoy her night out?" she asked Gabriella.

Gabriella had drunk until she passed out. Danced until she could feel the soles of her feet bleeding. And couldn't remember much after that. But there was no way she was going to tell Anita that. She wouldn't immediately judge her like her brother did, but she definitely would be disappointed. And Gabriella had dealt with that enough for the morning.

She responded with a shrug.

"Did Prince Bolton meet you there last night?"

Gabriella scowled at her.

"Or did our princess have a night out to avoid thinking about Prince Bolton?"

Okay, now she was just being mean. And a pain.

Before Gabriella could tell her off, Paco toddled out of his room. He grinned big at the sight of his aunt and ran over to her, wrapping his arms around her legs.

"Gabi." he happily cried.

Her precious one was the only person on earth Gabriella could never not smile at. He was simply too precious. Bending down on knee, careful to make sure her towel stayed put, she gave him a proper hug. She inhaled his sweet baby smell that was almost like a ray of sunshine.

Her relaxing mood soured, though, as Anita hummed a familiar tune under her breath, purposely trying to get on Gabriella's nerves.

_Who do you think you're kiddin'?  
>He's the earth and heaven to you<br>Try to keep it hidden_

_I Won't Say I'm In Love_ from the Hercules movie, a song that Anita believed was quite fitting for Gabriella.

"Have I mentioned how much I don't like you?" Gabriella asked, keeping her voice light for Paco's sake.

Anita smirked, this time singing the song out loud.

_Honey, we can see right through you  
>Girl, you can't conceal it<br>We know how you feel and  
>Who you're thinking of<em>

"The second that squirt is out of you," Gabriella pointed at her baby-budlged stomach. "I'm so going to get you."

_You swoon, you sigh  
>Why deny it? Uh, oh<em>

Meg's answer to that question was on the tip of Gabriella's tongue. She knew if she said it, then it would only encourage Anita's antics. She refused to do such a thing. She stood back up, gently directed her nephew to the living room, and hissed "_Muérete, Anita_."

Alone in her room, Gabriella dried herself off and moisturized her body with her favorite lotion, slipping on a new pair of underwear and cotton bra. She stared back at her reflection.

Her eyes were still red. Tweety would have a field day if she saw them.

She dropped drops of Visine in her eyes, hoping they'd work their magic on her.

Too bad they couldn't work their magic on Anita by sealing her lips.

_Girl, don't be proud  
>It's okay, you're in love<em>

Gabriella looked over at her Meg doll.

"I understand completely why you preferred handling Hot-head than Wonder-boy."

To most people, Meg was just another pretty but unimportant face from the Disney franchise. To Gabriella, she was another awesome Disney girl she could relate to. She had a sharp tongue. She handled her own business. She doesn't trust easily.

"_Sometimes, it's better to alone_," she had told Hercules. "_Nobody can hurt you_."

It was a quote that stuck in Gabriella's head long after the movie was over. One that she found oh so true.

**So so so sorry that this took forever. I've been taking summer classes and had to study for too many confusing exams. Thank god tomorrow is the last day. **

**consider this chapter to be spilt into two. originally I planned having this and the meeting tied into one chapter but it looked too much and I had very little free time. i have most of the next chapter written down already so I believe it wIll be updated sooner. **

**Thanks isarodas10 for being an awesome translator. And thank all of you are reading, favoriting, and alerting. **

**You guys rock **


	27. Chapter 27

**ET Chapter 27: The truth shall free or damn thy **

What does one wear when forced to go back to school, meeting not only with their nasty social worker but an annoying, gullible principle on a freaking Sunday?

It was a question that bounced against Gabriella's mind as she searched through her closet and drawers.

Ordinarily, she'd just be in her PJs all day unless something came up that required her to put on clothes.

She supposed she could put together a wow-stunner of an outfit that was bound to give Tweety a heart attack and put Matsui and his guards on creep-lane. Like lacy-tight cami that left little to the imagination and one of the shortest black skirts she owned paired with six-inch black stilettos.

The thought put a smile on her face. The smile quickly soured, though, as she thought about the shit she would get from Javier.

_Damn._

For the sake of her sanity and her head, she decided to play it safe. She settled with a bright pink and black striped long-sleeve hoodie shirt over a black tank top, a black mini skirt over pink leggings and black high-top sneakers.

Fixing her hair into a low ponytail, she studied her appearance. Her eyes were still red, despite the drops, so she slid on her shades. Modest but still edgy, still her. She nodded in approval.

Anita eyed the girl's apparel she stepped out of the room. Gabriella ignored her amused eyes and made herself a large cup of hot coffee and two pills of Tylenol Javier silently handed her without looking at her.

"You call that outfit business meeting attire?" Anita asked her.

Gabriella held up a finger, needing a minute. She swallowed the pills dry and washed it down with three gulps of the coffee. "My first choice actually was that nude, rhinestone-sparkle dress Rihanna was rocking, but the witch refuses to let me borrow me."

"You'd definitely stop traffic wearing."

"Then some." Gabriella smiled.

She felt her brother's eyes rolling, but she paid him no attention. The last thing she needed was to look into those eyes and see more disappointment in them.

The two rode to East High on Gabriella's bike in complete silence.

The entire building was deserted except for a few cars in the parking lot, most likely belonging to staff members. As much she hated coming in on a Sunday, she had to admit there was one benefit. No snoppy Wildcat trying to get in on the action.

The principal's office was just the same as it was the last time she was here, smallish and too perky with motivation posters plastered on the wall, featuring a cat hanging on a branch with the words _**Hang In There**_ written underneath its feet. All the players were here. Officer one and two standing by the doors, cautious of her. Tweety seated right by Matsui's desk in small chair, body tight with tension, signature scowl darkening with Gabriella's arrival. Principal Matsui behind his desk, eyes focused on his entwined hands.

Gabriella saw this time there were several more players. Little Ms. Queen Bee and her workers sitting in a set of chairs brought into the office. All three of them were dressed in similar clothes, pink shirts and brown skirts, as if they coordinated their outfits.

Queenie looked surprised by the sight of Gabriella, but surprise quickly changed into anger. Whether it was because she was wearing one of their colors or not mattered very little to her.

"Look what the wind blew in." Heather whispered not so slyly to her friends, who giggled.

Gabriella smiled sweetly at the Queen Bee, envisioning that pretty blonde hair to be pulled out painfully root by root. Oh, how sweet that would be. "Look the pussycat spat out."

All three gaped at her, speechless, which only widened that sweet smile of hers. The smile, though, quickly vanished as Matsui cleared his throat, trying to grab her attention.

"Ms. Montez," Principal Matsui pointed the empty chair planted right in front of his desk. "Please have a seat."

She resisted the strong urge to roll her eyes as she took her seat.

"Is there a reason why you're wearing sunglasses, Ms. Montez?" Tweety chirped.

_Because I'm blinded by your vast ugliness_. She was tempted to say those words, but kept them in. Her brother's eyes were burning holes into her skull, watching her every move.

"Because," Gabriella answered, pasting a sweet smile on her face. It was so sweet, it was sickening. "My poor eyes couldn't stop crying when Lassie came through the pathway and finally came home." She placed her hand on her heart and sighed dramatically. "It never fails to cut me deep. Right here."

"Oh!" Amanda aka minion two smiled. "I love that movie. Lassie is such a cutie bunny."

For a second Gabriella was sure her hangover was affecting her hearing. Turning around and seeing the seriousness in the blonde's eyes, she saw she was wrong.

"Sweetie," Gwen said to Amanda. "I think you mean dog?"

Amanda cocked a confused eyebrow. "Why does a dog have to do with Lassie?"

_And Madame and Tweety wonder why I didn't just want to graduate already. _

After those confusing words, the office was thick with heavy silence and growing tension. Hands twitching. Eyes bouncing from person to person. All except for the Montez sibling, Javier was silent, looking down at his sister as if she knew the reason for the silence. Gabriella didn't. Which made her annoyed.

Here she was on a Sunday morning, sitting in a room fill of people she could barely tolerate sober, when she should be sleeping off her hangover.

Finally, unable to stand the silence any longer, she said to the principal "Matsui. As much I love watching my valuable Sunday slip away with each second I sit here, being surround by you fine folk," She made sure the sarcasm rolling off her tongue was heard loud and clear. "I would very much like to get to the point of being surrounded like some medieval servant."

"Watch your tongue, young lady." Tweety warned.

Mr. Matsui didn't look offended. He looked almost intrigued. "Never one to delay, are you, Ms. Montez?" He leaned into his chair and studied her. "Your teachers from LaGuardia said that's a famous trait."

"Infamous flaw is more like it." Tweety mumbled-_loudly_-under her breath.

Bitch.

"Mr. Matsui," Heather said. "Usually I try to distance myself from bad influences like her," She pointed at Gabriella. "But I actually have to agree with Montez."

Minion one and two gasped. Gabriella rolled her eyes.

"I know. It's shocking," Heather said. "Sadly it's true. Is there a reason why you called us all down here?"

Principal reached into his top drawer and pulled out a tape-recorder. It was small and black. It looked like the type any kid could get from a knock-off spy store.

He pressed one button.

"_So it's pretty weird about last week_," a person's voice practically echoed in the silent room.

"Gabriella getting called into Matsui's office, then getting suspended like that."

Gwen's voice came up, sounding very loud and drunk. "_I wouldn't say weird. I'd say payback_."

"_Why do you say that?_"

"_I mean we're the ones who did it_."

_I knew it_ Gabriella thought as eyes immediately flew over to the trio who were turning white.

"_Wow. That's just_-"

"_I know_," Gwen cut in, sounding quite proud of herself. "_Fucking brilliant and totally well-deserved. Hope for that skank's sake, she'll learn you never mess with Heather or us without getting squished like a bug._"

"_What do you mean?_"

"_I mean it's time someone put the little skank in her place_."

"_You planted the drugs in her locker?_"

_"Don't be silly. We never do the physical labor. We have losers to do that for us. Heather first started with the sectary's daughter, Penny Sweets. Or Heets. Or whatever the hell her last name is. Anyway, we made a deal with her. Well, actually, Heather made the deal. She helps us get Montez's locker combination, then Heather hooks up her with a free appointment to a doctor at a clinic a few towns over that have a very strict no-questions policy._"

"_What about the bag?_"

"_The bag?" It took close to a minute for the realization to sink in. "Oh! You mean the drugs? Those were a bit trickier_."

Heather's face was tightening more and more with each word being said. Amanda's mouth dropped further and further. Splotches of red flushed Gwen's ghost-white complexion, growing warmer and warmer.

On audio, drunk Gwen was spilling the beans on how they hired the school's dealer and his brother the janitor to come up with a bag filled with enough drugs to get Gabriella on the hot seat. To everyone's shock-and Gabriella's disgust-she mentioned how Heather offered them Amanda as a present for their cooperation.

Gwen, at the time at least didn't' seem the least bit remorseful with that fact. Her words were, "_It wasn't as if we pimped her out to him. Basically it's not like Amanda's a virgin or anything. She already did more than half the male population at school. A simply threesome is not going to kill." _

Whoever the detective was that decided to bring the truth to life managed to keep their identity a secret by digitizing their voice to be strictly and unrecognizably computer monotone.

"_So you, Gwen Davis, Heather Homes, Amanda Fallen, with the help of the Bono brothers framed Gabriella Montez?"_

"_Duh. Amanda fucked the brothers behind the bleachers. Heather got the locker combination from Penny Sweets. Aaaron and Joel put together the goodie-bag. And before the final bell rang- as soon as we made sure the halls were completely clear-Heather opened the locker, and I placed the drug bag right on the shelf like so. Easy as one, two, three."_

Several things happened after that. More than several.

Officer one choked on the gum he was chewing, needing some assistance from Officer two.

Tweety's mouth hung so low, it was close to the floor.

Amanda was sucking hard on a lollipop she pulled out, oblivious to the tension.

Heather whipped around and slapped Gwenie so hard across the face, Gabriella winced at the sound.

"_You fucking little bitch!_" Queenie shrilled.

"It wasn't my fault," Gwen argued, holding her freshly-bruised cheek. "I was drunk."

"You don't know when you keep that big mouth of yours shut, do you?"

"At least I know when to keep my legs together."

"Do you guys know what flavor this is?" Amanda licked her lollipop, taking her time with it. "At first lick, I thought strawberry. Then I realize it's not as sweet. Then I thought raspberry. Except I don't like raspberry, so there's no way this can be it because I really like this sucker." She licked it again, not noticing the daggers her friends were pointing at her. "Now it has somewhat of a tangy taste, so it could be a mixed flavor like-"

"Shut up, Amanda!" They both yelled.

"Enough!" Matsui ordered, standing up and slamming his hands down on his desk. The noise silenced the bickering. "Is there anything you three would like to say?"

Queen wasted no time playing the blame game, pointing a finger at her friend. "It's her fault."

Gwen's mouth dropped. She was stunned, stunned and hurt. Probably thought her bestie was a solid friend who would have her back. "Heather."

"She's the one to blame, sir. The whole stunt was her idea."

Gwen's shock quickly morphed to anger. "Now, wait just a minute here. You have as much to do with this. You were the one who thought we should stash a drug-bag in Montez's locker."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"I object!" Amanda exclaimed. She leaped out of her seat and waved her lollipop high like it was the American flag. "And demand to know the flavor of this sucker."

"Shut up, Amanda!"

This time Matsui didn't bother quieting them. He left that task to the security guards who blew loud and hard on their whistles.

Thanking them, Matsui turned over to Gabriella, asking her on her input of the whole ordeal.

A question that made more than a hundred answers, though a good majority of those answers included vulgar language and using her fists as words. However, not in the mood to face Javier's or her social worker's wrath, she decided to answer the question as calmly as she could. "I told you I was framed. I knew it. And it turned out I was right," She looked over Heather. "Someone did frame it. An insecure, whiny little girl with two her flying monkeys. I should have known it was you, Queenie. You're the only one who'd stoop that low to remove a rebel from your tiny kingdom. Is it because you can't handle that? Is it because you know that I'm better than you? Or because unlike you with your bottle-blonde hair and spray-tanned skin, I'm a hundred percent real?"

"One call, Montez," Heather warned. "That's all it's going to take for me to have my Daddy come in here with his boys and get your Spic, worthless ass toss back to the border."

Alright, fuck her head. The bitch was going to get a hell lot more than a slap.

She stood close to Heather, her clenched fist rose high, ready to do some facial surgery. "You got one big mouth, Queenie. And way too much teeth."

The officers blew on their whistles again to break up the fight. Because the two were caught in the crossfire, Gabriella's head as well as her hearing suffered greatly from the blow.

"Thank you, boys."

Heather forgot about Gabriella's presence and directed her attention to Matsui, trying to win back his good graces. "Principal Matsui, let's not be so hasty and jump into conclusions."

"I wouldn't really call these circumstances hasty, Homes," Gabriella chimed in. "Especially since you three Pretty Liars were caught red-handed."

Without turning around, her teeth locked and clenched, Heather growled to Gabriella. "Shut up, Montez."

Heather went on to explain to Mr. Matsui that they couldn't pin the crime on them for one reason. One of the accused was intoxicated during the time of the interview.

"Is this true, Ms. Davis?" Matsui asked Gwen.

Gwen nodded at first quickly like she couldn't get the answer quick enough. Then the speed slowed to hesitation while she thought. "Well, kinda. Sorta. I get wasted from time to time."

"Whilst on school grounds?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"No!" she blurted out. "Well-sometimes-but I'm working on it."

_Note to self_, Gabriella thought. _Don't school and drink_. She couldn't think of a more worse combination for drinking.

Heather tried using that bit of information as an advantage. "See. Poor Gwen is suffering through early-stages of wine addition. One bottle is all it takes to undo her. A condition which meant I add has been a struggled battle for generations and generations of Davises."

Gabriella rolled her eyes. Boo-fucking-hoo. Alcoholism and addition the two-headed dragon that generations of Montezes have gone against with only a few making it through the fire. No one would see her trying to that that family history into a soap opera.

"Therefore," She rolled her eyes again while more words came out from Heather's mouth. "You shouldn't and can't take account on what Gwen said since the suspect barely recalls the conversation, much less the night, herself. Done deal. Case closed."

_Oh brother_.

"If it were any other time, Ms. Homes, I might have actually agreed with you," Matsui said. Heather smiled proudly. "However this is not that time."

Her smile spilt into two. First she was still. Then she was stunned. Next she was pissed. "Why the fuck not?" she demanded.

Red quickly flooded Matsui's face, all the warmth heading straight for his cheeks.

You did it now, Queenie.

"For one, young lady," The principal's voice spoke a tensed minute later. "Both you and Ms. Davis not too long ago were pointing fingers at each other on who the mastermind of this stunt was."

Heather's rage was knocked clean into stunned silence.

"Secondly, the Bono brothers turned in their pieces of evidence."

At the snap of his fingers, the officers pulled out two evidence bags. Officer one's bag contained the drug bag that landed Gabriella in the hot seat. Officer two's bag consist of a pair of barely-there, dental-floss pink panties.

"Amanda," Gwen shrieked. "You gave them your underwear?"

Oh barf. Gabriella quickly looked away and sealed her lips tight. The last thing she needed was for the crowd to see the gallons of liquor she chugged down last night.

"Well…yea," the ditzy blonde answered. "I do that with all the guys. It's my personal brand."

"Your personal brand? For what?"

Amanda huffed and rolled her eyes in a very _la-duh_ manner. "Duh, Gwen. As a personal welcome for having the pleasure of one-on-one time with my pussy."

_Oh my dear sweet Jesus, I'm gonna hurl. _Gabriella clenched her teeth tight.

Even the grown-ups were looking nauseous, including Tweety who was turning green.

"You're such a slut." Gwen said, shaking her head.

Amanda gasped, and then in the heat of her shock-turned-fury pushed Gwen off the couch, knocking her to the ground with a loud thump. "I may be dumb and like sex too much, but at least I'm my own person. You're such a loser and a follower, Gwen. You'd dye your hair blonde if Heather told you to."

Heather, having very little patience for her friends, silenced their bickering with a terrifying glare and an equally terrifying growl. To Mr. Matsui, she said "I'd hardly say a pair of Victoria Secret panties could tie us to the bag. After all, like Gwen had expressed, it's no secret that Amanda gets around. She has done almost every boy in the school. The brothers could have gotten those from a previous hookup that occurred days past."

The little Asian man entwined his hands together and nodded to himself. "Similar, though not quite as bold, thoughts came to mind when we retrieved the undergarments."

Heather smiled, pleased.

"However," The smile quickly fell apart at the word. "that was the reason the brothers also turned in the drug-bag. They insisted that we go down to the police station and have the bag dusted for prints,"

All three girls went white.

"Imagine my surprise when I saw not only the brothers' prints were smeared on the bag, but also your, Ms. Homes, along with Ms. Davis."

Gabriella's eyes flickered over the pale, stilled trio.

"It was just a prank!" Gwen nearly shouted out.

"Just harmless fun." Amanda added.

Matsui's face was red in a instant, flushed in anger. "I can assure you three that drugs are not a prank nor are they harmless fun. Especially using them to frame a fellow student."

"I object." Amanda cried out.

"Overruled."

Done deal. Cased closed.

The bono brothers were charged heavily with drug possession, being found with more than a dozen bags of weed and a drawer full of prescriptions. The elder one lost his job while the younger one, who had gotten into trouble one too many times, was expelled.

The Mean Girls were able to get away from the possession charges since none were directly found on them, but they sure didn't get out of it scot-free. For instance, there was a pricy-fine needed to be pay that none of their parents were happy about. Queenie's mom informed them in a email Matsui had read to them that the fine was going to cost the girls a two-months worth of designer clothes and spa trips, which they'd have to pay back doing chores and more at their house.

Not only will be working at home, possibly for the first time in their life, they were also going to be doing work at the school as well. Since their stunt cost the janitor his only employee, they would be helping him around the school for the next three months while serving in-house suspension with Ms. Darbus.

"On top of that, you'll be spending the next eight weekends giving back to the community. Saturdays, bright and early, you'll be tutoring underprivileged children at the youth center. Sundays, you'll be serving the homeless at the soup kitchen."

"Anything else?" Gwen managed to get out through her loud sobs.

"Yes. The three of you owe Ms. Montez an apologize."

Heather snorted dismissively. It quite frankly amazed Gabriella that despite the massive hole she was in and the loads of shit piled top of her, Queenie kept her cattiness. "Yea, like that's gonna happen."

"It _wasn't_ a suggestion."

With a loud, choked cry, Amanda fallen to Gabriella's feet like a servant to her queen, pleading mercy. "I'm so so so sorry, Gabriella. The sex wasn't even that good. Noel came just as soon as he put in."

Gabriella couldn't help shuddering as disgusting images mentally-violated her brain.

Gwen pulled a bawling Amanda up on her feet and looked at Gabriella with tear-filled eyes. "I'm sorry, too. It was supposed to be fun."

Gabriella rolled her eyes, then looked at Heather who was glaring at her with everything she had.

"Ms. Homes." Matusi said.

She growled under breath, saying through tightly-closed teeth. "I'm so very sorry, Montez. Sorry that your reputation makes you such an easy target. Let's face facts. Even if we didn't plant those drugs there, the finger would automatically be pointed at you. It's no secret that people are betting how long you'll last here."

Gabriella shook her head at the Queen Bee, deciding she wasn't worth the effect. "You're a real bitch, Homes. A real class-A, first model bitch."

After the principal dismissed the girls with tears running down their faces and their egos down a notch, he directed all his attention back to Gabriella, struggling with himself on what he should say to her.

"I…" He sighed heavily. "I don't know what to say Ms. Montez. You were right. And I should have looked more into the case."

Tweety looked she wanted Matsui a great, big hug. "Don't be so hard on yourself, sir. You made a simple mistake. Anyone can see that."

Hard on himself? A simple mistake? Rage was building inside Gabriella, simmering at the pit of her stomach.

Tweety's sympathetic look didn't falter when she looked at Gabriella. She added it with a gentle smile, a rare sight. "I'm sure Ms. Montez understands that this was nothing more than an unfortunate but simple mistake."

The last thing they were here, Tweety fuming all about drug possessions and charges, everyone acted as if she had committed cold-blood murder. Now that the culprits were caught and the principal was ashamed of his stupidity, they were shrugging and acting like it was no big deal.

What a bunch of bull.

Tweety came over to her and laid a hand on her shoulder, the smile so sweet it was sickening. "I'm sure you understand, don't you, Ms. Montez?"

She studied the woman with the sweet, pitying smile who had so much bitterness wrapped inside her. Bitterness so strong, so dark it reminded her of Maria.

She looked over at the two guards whose eyes immediately flew to her whenever she entered a room, believing she was a threat that needed to be watched carefully.

She saved her brother for last. Her brother who barely did anything at the last meeting other than scold her. Her brother who didn't bother to defend her. Her brother who believed she was nothing more than their bitch of a mother in the works.

Assholes, all of them.

She took in a deep breath that she let out slowly. She forced herself to remain calm as she met the principal's eyes.

"I accept your apologize, Mr. Matsui, though there's really no need for it. I understand. I understand perfectly."

Mr. Matsui smiled, relieved. Tweety patted her shoulder. Javier looked at her.

"I understand that people like you believe that they see. I understand that assumptions are the way of the game. I understand that adults are nothing but lying hypothrics, especially here."

Mr. Matsui shattered like glass. Tweety pulled her hand back. Javier looked on more.

"What's the matter?" Gabriella demanded. "Can't handle the truth. I know what you all think of me. A street-rat with a sad home-life coming to ruin your perfect sanctuary? You could have and should looked more into the case, considering how too obvious the setup was but you didn't. You just assumed it was the loud, sassy Latina. Assuming, which may I remind you, you people always tell us never to do. Saying we have to get the person better before we judge them. None of you even bothered getting to know me. One look at my record and everyone thinks I'm the evil devil."

"It's not as simple as you-" Gabriella cut the bird-like woman off with a cold, dark glare.

"Wrong, Tweety. It is. You just like believing what you see," To the principal she said. "Mr. Mat-shit, hopefully you'll take this little mistake as a learning lesson. Realizing you're not as mature as you think are."

The man stared at her, stunned, mouth dropped.

Deciding there was nothing more that needed to be said, Gabriella made her exit. She ignored her brother who was quickly catching up with her. Until he grabbed her arm and called her by the name that made her blood boil.

"Ella-"

"Do. _Not_. Fucking call me that." she nearly screamed. She pushed him back so hard he nearly stumbled.

"Let me explain-"

"There's nothing to fucking explain," Gabriella said. "You didn't protect me. You didn't defend me. You didn't question anything other than my supposed cloudy judgment. _You broke my fucking heart, you goddamn fucker, and you don't care!_"

He tried to touch her but she smacked his hands away. He looked crushed, whether because of her actions or her words she didn't know. "I care. Gabriella, I do care."

She shook her head. Her throat felt like tight hands were slowly squeezing it. Hot tears stung her eyes, setting them on fire. "Not enough. You didn't care enough to try to see me after you left. You didn't care enough to believe me. You compared me to Maria without a second thought and only apologized because Anita made you."

He looked so sad, so defeated. It both made her furious yet sad. "Gabriella…I do care. I do. I'm sorry I wasn't there. But I'm here now. I'm trying to make it right."

He thought playing parental-guardian because of a court-order would set things right? Would make up for the fist-sized hole he punched into her chest the second he left? He really thought it was that easy?

Gabriella had no words. It was as if her brother had reached into her throat and stole every word in her vocabulary.

Her sadness and headache weighted heavily on her, making her long for nothing else but her bed.

She shook her head at him again, warned him not to follow her, and headed to the bus stop, hoping he'd have the decency to bring her bike back.

He owed her that much.

**Once again thanks for the reviews and the love. You rocks. **

**Also, for any of you who may be fellow Legend of Korra fans, I'm planning on doing a oneshot soon. Please read and let me know what you think. **

**Also, let's hope it won't take as long to update the next chapter. I promise you things something you all have been waiting for will happen. **

**Stay tuned ;)**


	28. Chapter 28

**ET Chapter 28: Where We Stand **

Why?

That was the question that had been on her mind all day. Starting on the way back "home" on the bus because she was still too hung-over to handle her bike and didn't want to be anywhere near her brother. The question took shape in her head when she glanced around the stony-faced passengers, her eyes taking note of an average-looking Joe in a bright blue t-shirt, one that was darker than the sky but lighter than the ocean, one that popped like neon against his pale skin, one that brought to mind a certain pup with eyes that color and what he had done for her.

Why?

Why did he do it?

Why did he care?

The questions rotated around her head over and over throughout the day, into the night, while she was playing with her nephew, helping Anita with dinner, trying to sleep off her remaining hangover, pointedly ignoring her brother. They spun around her mind like a merry-go-round, going faster and faster, until a question stopped the ride.

What did he expect for payment of his services?

Gabriella cringed at her choice of words, creating images of special sorts of payments and services that hit too close to "home"

Maybe she was over-thinking it. Pup wasn't Carlos, thank God. He couldn't be any more different from Scorpion. She doubted she would go to extremes to get his payment. Besides, as annoying as he was, he was a decent guy that did her a solid. If it weren't for him, she would be a shit-load of trouble with a permanent record attached to her name and more pests from the state to breathe down her neck. Because of his good deed, she was in the clear and life (school-wise at least) was over for Heather and her clan.

Everything was good. She was good. So why couldn't she shake the weird feeling of both tingling and uneasiness in her stomach.

Gabriella flopped onto the back of her bed, staring into the ever beautiful mocha brown eyes of Johnny Depp.

Maybe she was making it more horrible than it needed to be. Maybe she was overthinking it. But Lord knew a person couldn't get through life without thinking carefully about every decision and action involving them. If a person managed to do so without thinking, then they were two reasons: extremely dumb luck or karma waiting further down to bite them in the ass.

Over-thinking was one of the few weapons she had that kept her safe in the Bronx. It helped her stayed out of trouble and sticky situations, such as debt which was the last thing anyone wanted to be in. Debt meant payback. Payback meant favors. Favors meant that someone had power over you. Gabriella cringed as she remembered all the debt her mother landed herself into and cringed again, remembering what she had to do to pay her debtors back. Things that made Gabriella sick to her stomach.

The way she saw it, no one does nice things for the sake of generosity. People played nice for one reason only; they wanted something back in return for their good deed. Even all those worldly kids who've volunteered at local charities and started their anti-movements against bullying or homelessness hoped to gain recognition for their work. Thinking about the matter brought back her two questions. Why had Pup done it for her? She knew he said he would help clear her name, but she didn't actually think she was serious. People often said things for the sake of things, like I'm sorry or I wish there was something I could do. And, more importantly, what he expect in return for his services?

Pup, despite all, was a dude. And, Gabriella dealing with her count of dudes knew what they wanted from her. So did that-

_Damn it!_ She growled. She lifted her head off her pillow and gave it a good punch, putting it more strength than what was needed, before she settled back down.

Her mind drifted back to what happened that afternoon Pup came over. To what took place on the couch. She remembered the soft feel of his lips, the gentleness of his hands. It made that strong feeling in her stomach got from a twinge to a full-on jolt, one that made her feel a bit uncomfortable in her clothes even though she was dressed in her standard tank-top and shorts pajamas.

She would be lying to herself if she said that the kiss was nothing. She wished it was nothing. She would lying to herself if she said the kiss had no effect on her whatsoever. That she didn't like it. It would be all too easy if she said that she hated it. Yet sadly, to her utter frustration and slight mortification, she didn't hate it. She wished she did. She really wished she did. But she didn't. She liked the kiss. She liked it more than she should, almost as much as Pup did, maybe even more. A part of her, one that was deeply buried in the dungeons of her steel walls, one that couldn't be still like the rest of her, wanted another taste of the Pup's sweet, beautiful innocence that baffled her rational mind.

Could that have been the motive behind Pup's actions? He wanted another go at the kiss? Or that he wanted more than just a kiss?

The thought didn't surprise Gabriella. That was the nature of most guys, especially the ones she knew: save the damsel and demand affection for his services. "Affection" meaning her lips, her body, and a place where they could be alone in peace. It was just the way they were. Julio was like that, saving her from reaching for her lighter, in hopes that he would get some. The bums from her old neighborhood and the snobs from her school. Scorpion and Carols were prime examples why girls should fear certain knights-in-shining-armor.

And, if she were truly honest with herself, with the way the things quickly heated up between them, she and Pup would have done a lot more than making-out.

A hell lot more, she thought. An un-easy, too-hot flush swept across her body as she pictured it.

"Fuck."

_Goddamn you, Bolton_.

* * *

><p>To keep her skull from splitting open from too many thoughts and save from sore hands from overuse of journal-writing, Gabriella decided that this would be one of those rare moments that would require something other her mind and her journal to empty her thoughts. A person.<p>

The problem was who could she talk to?

Anita would hold her mixed feelings over her head for the rest of their living days, never passing up the opportunity to remind Gabriella that she was right.

Javier wasn't an option.

Madame Gorksi was never one to judge and was one of the few people Gabriella could be real with and not worry about her weakness being used against her, but Gabriella knew she had other things to worry about such as the company.

Her precious one, young as he was, was a good listener. He understood her in a way few people did. And, no mater what, not only did she get the sense that he was listening clear, but he never stopped smiling at her. He was actually her first option. Issue was her problem required a person who didn't only listen and smile, but one who could answer back in complete sentences.

That left her one last option, one she almost immediately picking as that option nearly spat out his soda in the mix of his laughter when she finished telling him her story over fries and Burger King Whoppers.

"Oh God. Oh god. _Oh sweet fucking God!_" Rob roared in laughter, one hand over his face, the other over his stomach. "I can't."

Gabriella ignored the curious glances aimed towards their booth and rolled her eyes in annoyance. "You're a bum, you know that?"

"Oh dear God, this is too rich," The boy laughed so hard, it physically hurt to look at him. "The Feisty and the Puppy. It's a Hollywood love-story in the making."

"Shut it, Robert." The use of his full name should have warned him of the danger that was close-ahead, but he was enjoying himself too much to pay mind to caution.

"I can see it now. You two going steady together. And getting matching promise rings together. And going to prom together-_Shit!_"

Rob nearly dropped to his knees as if he was about to pray to the dear Lord that the kick Gabriella delivered to his crotch didn't do permanent damage to his little soldiers. "_God-fucking-damnit, Gabs!_" he said in one angry, tight breath. "I'd like to have kids someday."

"A wish that might not come true if you don't know when to put your mouth shut."

Rob gave her the burning glare of death before he grabbed his half-empty soda and limped his way over to the soda machine.

Gabriella shook her head after him and looked out the window, watching a dark-haired dude a year or so older with a not-so-bad face than her climb out of his pricy Audi.

_A few inches taller than him, but not as good-looking. There's no way he can have his eyes either. No one has crisp, bright blue eyes like Pup-What the__** fuck**__ am I thinking?!_

Gabriella shuddered, horrified, tearing her eyes away from the window. Even at Burger King and him miles away from her, the kid still was a pain in her ass. She was never more relieved to see Rob as he came back to their table.

"So let me get this straight," he said. "Puppy-dog pretty much decided to play Sherlock Holmes in the case of, Who Framed Gabi Rabbit," A slight smirk curled his lip as she saw her smirk. "By some miracle, he managed to get one of the culprits to confess to their involvement in the crime. Got the confession on tape and delivered it to the principal and the social bitch. And cleared you of all drug-related charges."

Gabriella shrugged. Rob pretty much summed it up.

"Damn."

She shrugged again. He smiled.

"Hot damn, Gabs. The puppy-dog really does have the hots for you."

Gabriella snorted as she shook her head and rolled her eyes, a combination she learned to master over the years. "More like have the hots for my body."

The mischievous smirk on her friend's face stilled for a moment. He looked slightly put-off. "What do you mean?"

"Rob, please. You may be a goofball but I know you're a smart boy. No one sticks their necks out for nothing. No guy does a favor that big for a girl, especially one he barely knows, unless he wants something in return."

Rob looked at her the way she imagined she looked at Pup when he had his special moments. Like common sense have immediately left the building. "Unless he wants sex, you mean?"

_Oh brother_. Gabriella rolled her eyes. "No shit, Sherlock."

"Hey, that would your man. Not me."

_Her man?_ Gabriella lunged for him, and Rob quickly drew his white flag, raising his hands slightly in surrender.

"Hey, hey, hey. Let's not take it out on my future children. The Mrs. Lewis might not take too kindly to our kids coming out deformed," Gabriella growled at him but lowered her fists, settling back into her seat. Once he was sure that his life wasn't in danger, Rob continued. "Okay. Look, Gabs, I got you. I really do. When certain people do favors, it means there are strings attached. But I think you're wrong about this."

Gabriella sighed in frustration and closed her eyes for a moment, resisting the urge to roll them. She could feel a migraine already working a number on her head. "Rob, please. You're a guy, You definitely know what you want from a girl."

"That's just my point," he argued. "Puppy-dog isn't me. He isn't Julio. Or any other asshole you've met before. I know it. He knows it. You know it. And it scares you. It scares the shit of you because you know how much he cares about you. It scares you even more because the feeling is not exactly one-sided now, is it?"

Gabriella turned her head away from him. She refused to dignify that question with an answer.

Rob's tone changed slightly, softening just a bit. "I've seen the way he looks at you, Gabriella. It's nothing like that creepy, devouring stare stoned Twi-hearts obsess about with Edward and Bella. Not even in classic Romeo and Juliet style. He looks at you like…like….you're the Daisy to his Gatsby. Like you're the Hazel-Grace to his Augustus. Like you're the Elena to his Stefan."

Damn him for using three out of her ten favorite fictional couples against her.

Damn her loose lips for telling him about her ships during a drunken one-on-one.

Damn the both of them for…for…not finding any false deception in his words.

Gabriella finished off her Whopper and pushed the trash aside. She set her elbows on the table and brushed back loose black curls, breathing in deeply. "Well, that's it then."

Robert's sober moment melted away in the form of a slight smirk that replaced the deep-thinker with the familiar goofball she didn't exactly hate. "So it would appear so."

It would _appear_ that she was royally fucked.

But…it didn't have to be that way. Gabriella bit her bottom lip, thinking about it.

She could find some benefits in Pup's generous gesture.

* * *

><p>Pup was right where he was supposed to be: at Vicznor's, where they've spent the past few weeks practicing their project for Creative Literature. Five o'clock on the dot. Just like her text instructed.<p>

_Punctual_, Gabriella thought, stepping into the room with ease, as if this was just another meeting she had to get through_. Someone give the boy-scout a badge. _

Pup was sitting on the beat-up couch, entertaining himself with a half-empty bottle of water he stirred in his hands. At the sound of her footsteps, he dropped the bottle and leaped from his seat.

With each slow step he took towards her, the look in his eyes, the one she could never figure out, the one that was the fuse to the strange tingly feeling, increased. He looked at her, well, like he was amazed, as if he hadn't seen her in years, as if every feature of her face needed to be studied and burnt into memory.

"_Like you're the Elena to his Stefan._" Rob's words slammed against her. Gabriella pushed them away.

"Hey Gabriella-"

"Why the fuck did you do it, Bolton? Why go through the trouble of trying to clear my name?"

He took a step back, stunned by her forwardness. Not a surprise. A lot of people were. "I'm guessing you're never one for small-talk."

Gabriella glared at him through narrowed eyes. "Answer the question, Bolton. Why did you do it? What? Did you think I can't handle my own shit?"

He shook his head. "No, of course not-"

"Or were you hoping to get sex out of this? Was that the agenda? You finally got a kiss from me, and decided you wanted more?"

"No!" Bolton looked like he was asked if he enjoyed kicking newborn pups. "Of course not. That was the furthest thing from my mind-"

"Why? Because I'm a fucking, good-for-nothing distraction that will get in the way of your right future? Or, are you like most assholes and considered the possibility of slumming it for a bit, then backing up because it's too much for you to handle?"

"No-yes-I mean no-I mean. Fuck," Pup slammed the palms of his hands against his forehead and lowered his head, looking so small that Gabriella held back more acid-spat words that were ready to fire. He took in a deep breath and lifted his head up. "I didn't do what I did because I expected you to pay back. I swear on my life that was the furthest thing from my mind."

She didn't get a single sense of bull from his words. The strange tingle ripped through her stomach. "Then why go through so much trouble for me?"

Pup, taking after her book, didn't hesitate. "For two reasons. The first reason is because I can't stand bullying. I hate it more than anything, almost as much as I do my fath-" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "What Heather and her friends did wasn't just bullying. It was just plain wrong. And it was because you are one of few people who aren't afraid of her. Heather couldn't handle that and was willing to let you go to jail for it. I couldn't just stand by. And the other reason is because…is because..."

"Spit it out, Bolton." Her words came out harsher than she intended. Gabriella could only say her temper was more explosive than usual while her self-control wasn't intact like she'd like it to be. And those irritating thoughts weren't helping things.

"I like you," There it was: those three words that appeared so small on the surface yet between them, it ran deep. Far deep. "I like you, Gabriella. A lot. I like that you take no shit. I like everything about you, especially your smile. It's rare like a shooting star or being struck like lightening, but when it comes, I know that the wait is worth. You're worth it, Gabriella. More than worth it. And…I just…I just…I wanna be with you. As a friend, an acquaintance, whatever I is I'll take it. It's your call."

Damn. Goddamn. Goddamn. Goddamn. It was rare when a person managed to catch her off guard. It was rarer when that person was a Pup. Various hookups have wanted more from her, have said it in different ways, and she was able to push them all off and pull the chord on them. But with Pup, the option of cutting and running was no longer available to her.

Gabriella took in a slow, silent breath. Then another. And another. "Pup," she told him, looking him straight in the eye. "You don't what to get involved with me."

"Why?"

"We come from two different worlds. In your world, you spend it the rest of senior year with your picture-perfect girlfriend, being the school's Golden-couple. Take her on dates. To prom. Get those stupid matching rings couples love to buy. In mine? Relationship and I don't mix. I don't do boyfriends. I don't do dates. I sure as hell don't do attachments. You're into serious commitments. I'm into fun. If you're serious about this, then you should know that there is a big chance you'll be left with a broken heart."

He was thinking about her proposal. Good. It showed that he was a smart Pup after all. Most guys would be all for having no-strings-attached relationship, but, as others have often pointed out and as she had witnessed herself, Pup wasn't most guys.

He looked at her and took her hands in his. She didn't fight him off. He entwined their fingers together. Gabriella tried hard not to notice how warm he felt.

"Okay." he said after a moment of silence.

Gabriella could feel her heart slowing down to a pause, growing in tension. "I'm not into clingy. Nor am I up for being paraded around like a damn show dog. The second I'm treated like property, I'm gone."

"Okay," he said again, this time with no hesitation.

Her eyes narrowed. "And I do plan to be gone, Pup. Like I said, I don't do attachments. The second we graduate, I'm hopping on my bike and heading to California with nothing holding me back."

"Okay."

"This could be blow up in our faces."

He nodded. "It could. But a wise woman once told me that rules are meant to be broken. To take risks. I've been following rules most of my life. I at least want to look back at my high school years and know that I didn't miss out. That I didn't let something that was possibly good slip away from me because I was scared."

Despite herself, Gabriella could feel her lips curl slightly. "That woman was wise beyond her years."

She liked to think it was possible that neither of them knew how close they were to each other. She didn't know about Pup, but it was surprise to her to find that there was little space between them. Very little space. But, odd as it was, it didn't scare her. She didn't mind it at all.

Pup was still holding her hands. "Can I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"Can I kiss you?"

Gabriella rolled her eyes and muttered about him being an old-fashioned dork before she pulled him into a kiss.

**AN: Hey guys. First off, I want to say I'm so so so sorry it took forever for me to get back to you. Like I've said before, school has kept me busy. Not only that, but I've switched my major and had to switch my schedule around. Plus I've been working on other stories. But don't worry. I'm still onboard with ET. I hope you all were pleased with the chapter. The moment you've all been waiting for has finally happened: TROYELLA. And just in time for Valentine's day, too. I hope holidays were good for you all and that this year will kick ass. **

**Thanks so much for reading. Feel free to poke around my other stories. And keep on being awesome. Peace ;) **


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